My sister and I were watching a romantic comedy on TV the other day, and I was really enjoying it. The timing of it wasn't particularly good, though, as I had to leave a little over half-way through it to go watch the Superbowl. As much as I was excited to go hang out with friends, eat good food, and enjoy a great football game, I was a little disappointed at having to miss seeing the end of the movie. On my way out, I told my sister to keep watching and tell me what happened. She laughed and called out, "you KNOW what happens!" as I shut the door.
My sister was right. I knew exactly what would happen. The guy gets the girl and they live happily ever after. But there's something so satisfying about seeing the details, watching it play out in front of you, even though you know the gist of what's going to happen. In much the same way, I know the gist of what's going to happen in my life. I'll live, then die, then go to Heaven to be with Jesus! Yay! But like with the movie, knowing the big picture is great, but seeing how you get there is even better. I get the privilege of walking out my purpose every day. As frustrating as it can often be, there is joy in going through the process.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Dreams
I have had some seriously terrifying nightmares in my life. I remember one I had after graduating high school in which my future college roommate was some kind of... killer, I guess. In my dream, I never did figure out what she did that was so awful and I never saw her, but when I told people who I'd be rooming with, each one would shudder, turn pale, and whisper something like, "oh, no" or "run!" I woke up in a cold sweat, repeating to myself that it was only a dream, but it did no good. Logic, my daytime love, was no match for my nighttime fears.
There is little that can instill terror in a man's heart like the fear of the unknown. It's been hard for many of us teachers hearing about dramatic budget cut proposals and knowing that we cannot know for sure whether or not we will be employed next year. As one teacher said, it would be so much easier if we just knew one way or another so we could plan accordingly. Yes, it is hard to sit and wait patiently and watch as our future unfolds, far beyond our ability to control it. Yet God tells us that we can trust him. He assures us that he is with us always. Our unknown is not unknown to God, and there is no need to fear.
There is little that can instill terror in a man's heart like the fear of the unknown. It's been hard for many of us teachers hearing about dramatic budget cut proposals and knowing that we cannot know for sure whether or not we will be employed next year. As one teacher said, it would be so much easier if we just knew one way or another so we could plan accordingly. Yes, it is hard to sit and wait patiently and watch as our future unfolds, far beyond our ability to control it. Yet God tells us that we can trust him. He assures us that he is with us always. Our unknown is not unknown to God, and there is no need to fear.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Go Ahead-- Look Down
"...those who hope in the Lord... will soar on wings like eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31)
"When the oceans rise and thunders roar, I will soar with you above the storm." (Hillsong)
If you've ever been flying in a plane, you know the window seat is the best. I love looking out and seeing the houses get smaller and smaller and looking down at mountains and lakes and feeling so... above everything. Even my problems.
I was flying back from a fantastic weekend with a great friend and got caught in some bad weather. It wasn't anything serious by any means. We had a little bit of turbulence and it was rainy and cloudy and generally gross when we landed, but that was the extent of the problem. Still, I was struck by the contrast. Close to the ground-- darkness, rain, turbulence. Way high up-- gorgeous fluffy clouds, blue sky, sunshine, calm. It amazed me to realize that the bad weather I experienced on the ground existed at the same time as the gorgeous weather above the clouds. The only difference was my altitude. Even as we experience storms in our lives, God's peace is there for us. We need to look past our circumstances and realize that there IS a place outside of what we're going through, a place of peace and light and beauty, a place where the God who loves us calls us to be.
"When the oceans rise and thunders roar, I will soar with you above the storm." (Hillsong)
If you've ever been flying in a plane, you know the window seat is the best. I love looking out and seeing the houses get smaller and smaller and looking down at mountains and lakes and feeling so... above everything. Even my problems.
I was flying back from a fantastic weekend with a great friend and got caught in some bad weather. It wasn't anything serious by any means. We had a little bit of turbulence and it was rainy and cloudy and generally gross when we landed, but that was the extent of the problem. Still, I was struck by the contrast. Close to the ground-- darkness, rain, turbulence. Way high up-- gorgeous fluffy clouds, blue sky, sunshine, calm. It amazed me to realize that the bad weather I experienced on the ground existed at the same time as the gorgeous weather above the clouds. The only difference was my altitude. Even as we experience storms in our lives, God's peace is there for us. We need to look past our circumstances and realize that there IS a place outside of what we're going through, a place of peace and light and beauty, a place where the God who loves us calls us to be.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Pride goeth before a fall
"God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble." (from 1 Peter 5:5)
I don't know if you've ever played games with a little kid, but it is an enlightening experience in many ways. One thing I always find amusing is their firm insistence that they are the best, the fastest, the most skilled at whatever thing they're doing. The classic childhood game of "come and get me" is the one I play most often. So far, none have challenged me to a race by saying, "I know you're faster, but let's just run around!" No, it's usually something more like, "You can't catch me!" If you have ever entered a race with a small child, you know what usually happens next. The child bolts, perhaps thinking that the element of surprise will gain him a win. Although my legs are about twice the length of the kid's, I somehow always stay about one step behind the now-squealing boy, who knows I'm right behind him and hopes that he can still pull out a victory. I often let the child win, but sometimes I go for a tie. Regardless, the outcome of the race is never in the child's hands. I am always the faster; winning or losing is entirely my choice.
There aren't many things in my life that I am completely confident about. Self-doubt creeps into all kinds of situations, even the ones where everyone else would think that I had more than enough reasons to trust that I'd do well. I can say this, though. It has never even entered my mind to doubt that I could win a race against a 3 year-old. In that, I am completely confident. In my confidence, I don't need to boast. The race I desribed could just as easily go down like this: the kid challenges me; I catch him in 2.5 seconds; I tell him I'm faster and walk away. Or I could just make some disparaging comment about how there's no way he could win. I would never do either. Obviously it's mean, but it also makes no sense. I already know I'm faster. I race for the fun of it, not to prove anything, and in my confidence, I have room to "lose" the race for the sake of the child.
God has no reason to doubt himself. Ever. Us looking at God and acting like we know better than him is like a 3 year-old looking at me thinking he is faster. It's so completely unrealistic that it's not even worth discussing! Why, then, doesn't God just let us go on thinking that we know everything, if it's not offensive to his pride? Here's the thing. I let little kids win races because it's fun and not harmful. I think that kids do understand that grown-ups are faster-- they just like the thrill of the chase. But there are times when letting a child continue in wrong thinking could be very harmful. For example, if my son ever thinks he's Superman and tries to fly or wants to be linebacker for his football team (at 20 pounds underweight), I'm going to tell him that he is wrong. My pride isn't at stake. His safety is.
When we convince ourselves that we know more than God, God cannot stand it. His ego isn't in the way, and he's not trying to be mean, but he absolutely will humble you. When you are prideful, you convince yourself that you don't need God. You don't ask for his advice or opinions. You don't seek his presence. You walk away from him and try to discontinue the relationship. You've moved on. But God is a good father. It would take a nutjob to believe a two year-old is independent just because she insists, "I do it!" I don't care that she believes herself to be independent, my love, NOT my pride, makes me take her hand when we cross the street. I insist on cooking and cutting up her food myself to keep her safe. In the same way, God will not let us continue in our pride. He wants us to be safe in his presence, not to wander around alone in the wilderness where "Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8).
I don't know if you've ever played games with a little kid, but it is an enlightening experience in many ways. One thing I always find amusing is their firm insistence that they are the best, the fastest, the most skilled at whatever thing they're doing. The classic childhood game of "come and get me" is the one I play most often. So far, none have challenged me to a race by saying, "I know you're faster, but let's just run around!" No, it's usually something more like, "You can't catch me!" If you have ever entered a race with a small child, you know what usually happens next. The child bolts, perhaps thinking that the element of surprise will gain him a win. Although my legs are about twice the length of the kid's, I somehow always stay about one step behind the now-squealing boy, who knows I'm right behind him and hopes that he can still pull out a victory. I often let the child win, but sometimes I go for a tie. Regardless, the outcome of the race is never in the child's hands. I am always the faster; winning or losing is entirely my choice.
There aren't many things in my life that I am completely confident about. Self-doubt creeps into all kinds of situations, even the ones where everyone else would think that I had more than enough reasons to trust that I'd do well. I can say this, though. It has never even entered my mind to doubt that I could win a race against a 3 year-old. In that, I am completely confident. In my confidence, I don't need to boast. The race I desribed could just as easily go down like this: the kid challenges me; I catch him in 2.5 seconds; I tell him I'm faster and walk away. Or I could just make some disparaging comment about how there's no way he could win. I would never do either. Obviously it's mean, but it also makes no sense. I already know I'm faster. I race for the fun of it, not to prove anything, and in my confidence, I have room to "lose" the race for the sake of the child.
God has no reason to doubt himself. Ever. Us looking at God and acting like we know better than him is like a 3 year-old looking at me thinking he is faster. It's so completely unrealistic that it's not even worth discussing! Why, then, doesn't God just let us go on thinking that we know everything, if it's not offensive to his pride? Here's the thing. I let little kids win races because it's fun and not harmful. I think that kids do understand that grown-ups are faster-- they just like the thrill of the chase. But there are times when letting a child continue in wrong thinking could be very harmful. For example, if my son ever thinks he's Superman and tries to fly or wants to be linebacker for his football team (at 20 pounds underweight), I'm going to tell him that he is wrong. My pride isn't at stake. His safety is.
When we convince ourselves that we know more than God, God cannot stand it. His ego isn't in the way, and he's not trying to be mean, but he absolutely will humble you. When you are prideful, you convince yourself that you don't need God. You don't ask for his advice or opinions. You don't seek his presence. You walk away from him and try to discontinue the relationship. You've moved on. But God is a good father. It would take a nutjob to believe a two year-old is independent just because she insists, "I do it!" I don't care that she believes herself to be independent, my love, NOT my pride, makes me take her hand when we cross the street. I insist on cooking and cutting up her food myself to keep her safe. In the same way, God will not let us continue in our pride. He wants us to be safe in his presence, not to wander around alone in the wilderness where "Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8).
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
What's in you?
It's so funny for me as a teacher to see how God teaches me things. I'm seeing such a pattern... lesson, break to absorb it, lesson, test. For example, these past couple of weeks, my pastor has been preaching on gratefulness. I was initially blown away by what he said. Wow... if Adam and Eve had focused on how grateful they were for all God gave them, they would have had no room to be ungrateful for the one thing he claimed only for himself. I tried to walk out gratefulness in my daily life, but it got a little lost in my immense to-do list. Next Sunday, same kind of thing. Wow... gratefulness, right! Yes, I need that! Then last night I was suddenly faced with a HUGE test of my ability to be grateful.
Interestingly, I had just been talking with another leader about how excited I am to be starting a small group for middle school girls. I was telling her that I couldn't wait to share an object lesson the Lord had used recently to make me think. I imagined two soda bottles: one filled and one empty. Even with a blindfold, you could pretty easily determine which was which. All you'd have to do is flick 'em both and see which one keels over.
I won't lie and say I'm super excited about the things going on in my life. Challenges are, yes, challenging. But I really saw myself in that object lesson, and I know that God is using these challenges to draw me to himself. If I'm filled with gratefulness to God for all the things I have, this circumstance, this little blip on my eternal life, will not knock me over. If, though, I don't allow God to fill me, I'm going to be thrown all over the place! I know that God is building character in me, and unlike in school, my looking to someone else for all my answers will not cause me to fail... in fact, looking to my heavenly father is the only way I can pass!
Interestingly, I had just been talking with another leader about how excited I am to be starting a small group for middle school girls. I was telling her that I couldn't wait to share an object lesson the Lord had used recently to make me think. I imagined two soda bottles: one filled and one empty. Even with a blindfold, you could pretty easily determine which was which. All you'd have to do is flick 'em both and see which one keels over.
I won't lie and say I'm super excited about the things going on in my life. Challenges are, yes, challenging. But I really saw myself in that object lesson, and I know that God is using these challenges to draw me to himself. If I'm filled with gratefulness to God for all the things I have, this circumstance, this little blip on my eternal life, will not knock me over. If, though, I don't allow God to fill me, I'm going to be thrown all over the place! I know that God is building character in me, and unlike in school, my looking to someone else for all my answers will not cause me to fail... in fact, looking to my heavenly father is the only way I can pass!
Friday, November 11, 2011
Don't flip out, flip over!
I was making French toast this morning and it started sticking to the bottom of the pan. Obviously, my first instinct was to flip it over to keep it from burning. Sadly, despite my best efforts and despite the cooking spray I'd used, the bread would NOT come up! I finally managed to flip it, but there was this layer of semi-burned eggy mess on the bottom of the pan. The French toast ended up looking mangled and tattered and lumpy. It still tasted alright, but I pride myself on presentation, and that French toast was not pretty.
How often do we do that? God looks down and says, "It's getting hot, eh? How about I flip you over?" And we say, "Um, no, thanks. I like it riiiiiight here!" God, don't change things. It's too hard right now, I'm too busy, I'm too sad, I'm too _____, and I can't take the kinds of changes you're proposing. And then we wonder why we feel burnt out.
How often do we do that? God looks down and says, "It's getting hot, eh? How about I flip you over?" And we say, "Um, no, thanks. I like it riiiiiight here!" God, don't change things. It's too hard right now, I'm too busy, I'm too sad, I'm too _____, and I can't take the kinds of changes you're proposing. And then we wonder why we feel burnt out.
Problems (mathematical and other)
I <3 words. I mean it. I can throw down a rap, spin out a story, or whip together a sonnet all without much effort. I read about 300 pages/day. I've been known to read cereal boxes at breakfast. So when images of a math book interrupted a pleasant daydream, I felt an immediate compulsion to grab some holy water and a crucifix. Begone, Devil!
Just kidding. Mostly. I really didn't hate math until we got to calculus, but I was frustrated that math never came as easily to my understanding as did pretty much everything else. My teachers would usually assign the even-numbered problems (you know, the ones that didn't have the answers in the back of the book?) so I'd have to go through and do the odd ones first, just to see if I understood. I suppose that I've just revealed myself as an overachiever. Well, I am, but really, it was the right thing to do. I had to figure out what I was doing, or I'd go through and mess up every mathematical convention known to man. For each night's homework, here's how it went. I'd do number one, check the answer, fix my work. I'd do number three, check the answer, fix my work. By then, I usually understood what I had to do, so I'd go on to numbers two and four.
As I continued thinking about that process, God showed me that that's kind of how it works with us as believers. The Bible is meant to be a tool to shape you into the you that God wants! In the Bible, you read about Jesus and various believers like Paul, Peter, John, David, Moses... you learn what to do and what not to do. The goal isn't to be Jesus, Paul etc. You can't do that, and God doesn't want you to. The goal is to learn how to live for God and then to do it yourself. Like with math, you can't just do the exact same thing for each question. Let's say the answer to number one was 32. You can't just write '32' down as the answer to number two! You have to learn the process, how you get the answer, and then take that process and apply it to the next question. Your life will not look exactly like others'. That's not the point. You should be going through the same process, but the results will often be very different.
Just kidding. Mostly. I really didn't hate math until we got to calculus, but I was frustrated that math never came as easily to my understanding as did pretty much everything else. My teachers would usually assign the even-numbered problems (you know, the ones that didn't have the answers in the back of the book?) so I'd have to go through and do the odd ones first, just to see if I understood. I suppose that I've just revealed myself as an overachiever. Well, I am, but really, it was the right thing to do. I had to figure out what I was doing, or I'd go through and mess up every mathematical convention known to man. For each night's homework, here's how it went. I'd do number one, check the answer, fix my work. I'd do number three, check the answer, fix my work. By then, I usually understood what I had to do, so I'd go on to numbers two and four.
As I continued thinking about that process, God showed me that that's kind of how it works with us as believers. The Bible is meant to be a tool to shape you into the you that God wants! In the Bible, you read about Jesus and various believers like Paul, Peter, John, David, Moses... you learn what to do and what not to do. The goal isn't to be Jesus, Paul etc. You can't do that, and God doesn't want you to. The goal is to learn how to live for God and then to do it yourself. Like with math, you can't just do the exact same thing for each question. Let's say the answer to number one was 32. You can't just write '32' down as the answer to number two! You have to learn the process, how you get the answer, and then take that process and apply it to the next question. Your life will not look exactly like others'. That's not the point. You should be going through the same process, but the results will often be very different.
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