Can You See?

Can you see him?

The baby named Jesus is just a few hours old.  Laying in a feeding trough doesn’t sound comfortable, but his mother has made it so by wrapping him tightly and chshioning the hard wood with blankets and hay. 

His eyelids open ever so slightly as he looks slowly from side to side.  The accomodations may not be the best, but babies have no concern for such things.  Jesus, the creator of all things, is just a newborn now without the ability to consciously know the splendor of this night.

You see him move slightly as though he is trying to wrestle himself free from the swaddling clothes.  He is unsuccessful, except for a tiny hand that struggles loose and finds his face.  It is such a tender moment as he carresses his cheek with his hand ever so softly. 

A tear forms in the corner of your eye because you know that tender cheek will one day be beaten and that precious hand will be pierced.

Can you see Mary?

The exhaustion of the trip and the agony of childbirth can’t keep her away from her baby.  She is laying on blankets near the manger, propped up on pillows and packs that they brought with them from Nazareth. 

She senses Jesus moving around and raises up to take a look at her precious baby.  For nine months she carried him in her womb wondering what the Son of God would look like.  Now she knows; he is the most beautiful baby she has ever seen. 

Gazing at her child, the beginning of this improbable journey seems so long ago.  The visit from the angel, the time spent with Elizabeth, the questions from her family and Joseph, the hurtful gossip and scornful looks from the townsfolk. 

She had a feeling that the majority of those who knew and loved her didn’t really believe her, but she knew that at least she had Joseph.  That wasn’t the case at first, not until he had his own visit from a heavenly messenger.  Her love for Joseph exploded when he ran to her and begged forgiveness for not believing that she was to be the mother of the Messiah. 

As she looks at Jesus, she knows exactly who he is, yet does not fully know what all being the Son of the Highest will entail.  Anxiety mixed with joy fills her heart as she ponders what is to come.

Can you see Joseph?

Becoming betrothed to Mary was such a thrill, but the thrill faded when he found out she was pregnant.  The fanciful story she told of a conversation with an angel couldn’t keep him from thinking the worst of Mary.  His family and friends advised him to make a spectacle of parting ways with her; they didn’t understand why he would want to do it so quietly. 

Then he had a dream; an amazing dream with an angel confirming what Mary had tried to convince him of for weeks.  He woke up and ran to her, sharing both laughter and tears as he told of his encounter.

Joseph’s family didn’t understand and most of his friends abandonned him.  He didn’t care; the one who will save his people from their sins was coming and he was blessed to be called upon to play a role in the greatest event in the history of the world—the entrance of the Messiah!

Now he sits on the near the manger on the opposite side of Mary and sees her raise her head.  She going to be a good mother, he is sure of it.  It’s his own parenting skills that he is most concerned with.  How does a carpenter raise the Savior of the world?  He chuckles within himself at the thought.  That God often chooses to use unexpected people to accomplish His purposes is something that he has known since childhood, but this is just too much.  Why him?

He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of Jesus since the delivery, even though his eyelids have become heavy as the night grows older.  He wants Mary to rest and his baby to be safe, so he stays awake.  Wondering.

The noise from outside causes him to jump to his feet.  He looks out and sees a group of men walking excitedly his way.

Can you see the shepherds?

They look somewhat deranged with wide eyes and quick steps.  Since arriving in the town they have gone from home to home and inn to inn asking everyone in sight where they might find a woman who had given birth that day.

They tell no one why they are looking for the baby.  It’s doubtful that anyone would believe them anyway.  An angel telling a bunch of smelly shepherds that the Christ has been born.  Not to mention the light and the rest of the angels.  Who would–who could–believe such things would happen to them?

As soon as the angels had disappeared from sight, they began running toward the town.  The sheep would have to take care of themselves, at least for tonight.  Once in Bethlehem and gasping for breath, they began their inquiries.  A few doors were slammed in their faces and few curses were hurled their way.  But there were some who were helpful. 

Finally, they were pointed in the direction of the stable that was built into a cave where a young couple had gone to spend the night.  The woman, they were told, was close to giving birth.

With great joy they ran toward the stable, but slowed up as they approached the door.  What would they say?  How would they explain what they had seen?  Who would believe a bunch of disheveled shepherds?

As they approach the door there is movement from inside.

Can you see it?

Joseph pushes the door and allows it to fling open.  He sees dirty men in dirty clothes heading toward him, toward his wife, toward their baby.

“What do you want?,” he says forcefully.  The question causes the shepherds to stop just a few feet away.

“W-w-well,” one of the bewildered guests stammers, “something has happened that is going to sound unbelievable.”  They obviously have no clue what Joseph and Mary have already experienced.

“Go on,” Joseph demands.

In a rush of words, the shepherd tells him of the angel’s pronouncement that they would find the Christ-child wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger.  He tells Joseph about the whole host of angels and how he and his fellow shepherds had ran to Bethlehem in search of the baby.

Joseph lowers his head.  The chuckle that he has been suppressing now escapes in laughter.  Telling the shepherds to wait outside a moment, he heads back in to tell Mary about their visitors.

Her eyes widen in amazement at what Joseph says and she kneels before her baby with a renewed sense of wonder.  She tells Joseph that the shepherds can come in and see.

Joseph opens the door and beckons for the motley crew to enter.  They shuffle quietly to the side of the manger and kneel down in silence.  Joseph goes to the side of his wife and, in whispers, they share their story with the shepherds. 

The shepherds listen intently.  They ask a few questions and give more details of how the angel appeared so suddenly.

Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds sitting near Jesus, speaking in hushed tones about this blessed event.  But mostly, they just stare in awe at Jesus.  The Christ.  The Messiah.  The Savior.

Can you see Him?

A Church-House Lesson

It was a simple request that should not have evoked within me such a negative response, but I just couldn’t help it.  Remaining calm was what I desired, but instead my pulse rate quickened and my palms became sweaty.

Matthew came home from Kindergarten a couple of weeks ago and told me that all of the fathers and grandfathers of the kids in his class were invited to come in and help them build things using “a real hammer, real nails, and real wood.”  It was part of a special day in his class where the kids would pretend that they were in Santa’s work-shop.  He was super-excited about it; I was not.

My relationship with tools of any kind has soured over the years with me misusing them, neglecting them, and on occasion calling them names.  In return, they probably poor-mouth me behind my back by questioning my manhood or calling me a pansy like my elementary school gym teacher used to do.  I’ve apologized to them a few times, but it hasn’t seemed to help them perform any better for me.  I remain “mechanically declined.”

When Matthew asked me if I would come to school and help him build something, I lowered my head, leaned against the refrigerator, and groaned.  This is when my wife spoke on my behalf by telling Matthew that I would love to help him on that special day. 

I’m not quite sure where she got that particular idea, but when she said it his eyes lit up, a big smile covered on his face, and he let out a big yell of excitement.  So I knew that I had to give it a try.

I arrived in his classroom at 8am on the special day and listened to the preliminary instructions given by the teacher.  Actually, I only half-listened due to feeling a little weird.  No matter how many times I visit a Kindergarten classroom, it always makes me feel even more out-of-place than normal since I am over six and a half feet tall and everything in the room is built for kids who could use my shirt as a tent.  Using an elementary school restroom is even stranger, but that is another story for another day.

The teacher split the students up into groups of two and assigned them to an adult.  Matthew was put in my group along with an unsuspecting little girl who had no way of knowing about my ongoing feud with tools. With wood of various shapes and sizes at their disposal, they were told to pick out and few pieces and tell me what they would like for me to build. 

After they picked out their wood and I picked up a hammer and plenty of nails, I found an open space on the carpet and looked at these two little kids who had far too much faith in me.  With a big sigh, I asked the little girl what she wanted me to build.  She said, “A bunk bed for my Barbie dolls.”  She showed me how she wanted it to look and I set to work with complete confidence that I was going to screw it up. 

Sure enough, after a decent start, I split one of the pieces of wood.  I asked the girl if she wanted me to start over with a different piece of wood.  She said no, it would be fine.  So I kept going and split the would again.  I looked at it and she looked at it, still with a big smile on her face.  She said that it would be ok if it was just a single bed and not a bunk bed, bless her heart.  I would like to say that I split the wood because the nails were too big for the kind of wood we were using, but it was probably because IHADNOIDEAWHATIWASDOING. 

After finishing the bed that the sweet girl was amazingly satisfied with, Matthew informed me that he wanted me to build an airplane.  I looked down at the wood that Matthew had picked out and tried to imagine how in the world I was going to make that happen.  Then I looked over at the other men helping their kids make things like a miniature skateboard with a ramp and a fully functioning squirrel feeder.  Seeing them almost gave me enough confidence to think that I could actually build an airplane.  Thankfully, before began, Matthew changed his mind and asked me to build him a “church-house.”

We talked about how he wanted it to look and decided that it should just have three walls, a roof, and a “steeple-looking-thing” at the top.  The reason for the design only having 3 walls was partly because he wanted to be able see inside of it and mainly because I was pretty sure doing anything more would stretch my suspect carpentry skills to their breaking point. 

After I nailed the last nail into place, I looked at it and decided that it looked more like a “church-shack” than a “church-house.”  But Matthew didn’t care.  With great pride he walked up to his teacher to display his father’s craftmanship.  Then he sat down and drew a cross on it along with a few windows. 

I didn’t realize just how proud of it he was until I brought him and his little “church-house” home that afternoon and he carried it around for 3 straight days like it was a trophy that he had won for “Best Shack.”

Even though I was glad he liked it, I still didn’t think much of it until about the third day.  It is amazing how something so seemingly insignificant can help to teach or reinforce a profound lesson.

I had noticed that Matthew was pretending that one of his Batman action figures was preaching inside of the “church-house.”  I told him that he could set some of his other actions figures up inside of it and pretend like they were listening to Batman preach.  He said, “Or I could put a bunch of Transformers in there.”  I replied, “That’s silly–Transformers don’t go to church.”

I recognized how wrong that statement was almost immediately.  While the Autobots and Decepticons of the Transformers universe are fictional and do not attend church services, there are real transformers that certainly do.

The Bible makes it abundantly clear that those of us who have placed our faith in Jesus Christ have become new creatures.  We have been transformed by virtue of having been born again. 

Not only have we believers been transformed by accepting the free gift of salvation, we should be in the process of continually being transformed and conformed into the likeness of Jesus Christ.  Some followers of Christ may have been misled to think that once they become Christians that their journey is over.  The truth is, our journey has just begun.

Not one person alive who has experienced salvation is perfect.  Christ is not done with us yet.  His desire is for us to be like Him. 

As a follower of Christ, I am a transformer that needs to keep being transformed by the renewing of my mind each day.  I am not the me that I will one day be.  To be all that God created me to be, I must remember that He is the potter and that I are the clay and that I must allow Him complete control to mold me as He sees fit.

If your spiritual growth has stagnated, please know that it doesn’t have to stay that way.  The same God that created you, sustains you, and saved you still loves you far more than you could ever imagine.  He has not gotten out of the transformation business.

Ramblings of Praise, Part 7

Today I was supposed to do better, be more focused, be more like Christ.

Today victory seemed closer than defeat.

Today could have and should have been a day of overcoming past obstacles and stepping more deeply into You.

But I failed.

Today was just like past days where what I hoped for never came to pass.

Today I walked down the same worn path as before, foolishly thinking that the path would lead to a different destination.

Today I neglected to follow through on plans to draw nigh to You early, to hear from You clearly, to seek wisdom that could have kept me from wandering.

Now I ask You again, just like I have before…

Forgive me–for my sins are many, my heart is broken, and my desire is to be like Christ.

Cleanse me–for the stain is deep, the burden is heavy, and my soul is frail.

Teach me–so that I may learn, grow, and encourage others who are on the same journey.

The richness of Your grace is astounding.  The reach of Your hand is unfathomable.  The righteousness You clothe me in is undeserved.

Today I have gone from from the valley of despair because of my sin to the mountain of forgiveness because of Your grace.

From weakness to strength and from sorrow to joy.

It has been a good day.

This and That

Well, I haven’t shared any current information about myself lately.  You know–what’s going on, what I’m up to, how’s it going kind of stuff.  So here goes.

1.  The tremendous blessings of God are staggering.  A few weeks ago, my two oldest children accepted the free gift of salvation.  It was so awesome talking with them about the most important decision that they will ever make.  I was privileged with the opportunity to baptize them (along with 3 others) this past Sunday.  Wow–an incredible feeling.

2.  I love my wife and children more and more with each passing day.  Having a large family is not always easy, but God’s grace is more than sufficient to get us through any aggravations that may come along. 

3.  The church that I have been given the gift of pastoring—Stoney Point Baptist Church–is being touched by the mighty and loving hand of God.  New people each week–many of them staying with us to grow in faith together.  Can’t wait to see what He will do with us next.

4.  I have really been touched by being able to use this blog, Facebook, and other outlets to send my writing out in hopes that it will be a blessing to others.  I don’t know if it helps anyone else or not, but it surely is a fantastic way of getting my thoughts in line. 

5.  As many of you know, a little over a year ago I was fired from my regular, full-time job.  It was a frightening time for me.  I applied for every position that I was even remotely qualified for…to no avail.  Eventually, the church decided to increase my pay some (I was initially a bi-vocational pastor).  While it is not completely what would be called “full-time” pay, it has certainly helped and I am grateful for it. 

6.  While finances have been tight, we have been blessed by God over and over again.  At times when we were really struggling, God would provide exactly what was needed.  Things are tight again with Christmas coming up, but I am confident that God will give to us exactly what is required.  He asks that we trust Him and then gives us the ability to do so.  What a mighty God we serve!

7.  We have been blessed with the ability to rent a bigger house.  We prayed and hoped for this and it happened!  Also, my wife has gotten into goats and chickens.  Amazingly, it doesn’t cost much to acquire a small brood and we are getting ready to begin making a little money off of them.  I am excited.

Overall, the good is so good that it far outweighs the bad.  God has continued to be faithful to me and my family.  He has provided and we are trusting Him to continue doing so as we lay down our lives in service to Him.

Ramblings of Praise, Part 6

Arrogance is nearby, threatening to overtake me, knowing that at any moment I will fall.

Pride is ready to overwhelm me; ready to infiltrate my psyche by overpowering my weakened defenses.

Though constantly questioning myself and finding fault with my ways, still there is within me an air of invincibility; there is within my heart a deceitfulness that declares that I deserve more that what I have.

All of mankind is plagued by a sense of entitlement, by selfishness, by a desire to be acknowledged as vastly important.

The esteem of peers is clamored after; the apiration to be admired is prevalent.

Feeling insignificant, we yearn to be noticed.  Lusting after fame, yet feeling so small.

God, make me remember.  My Lord, shall I never forget.

While there have been achievements, it was only by your good pleasure. 

While others may have praised me, it was only because of your empowerment.

If the Almighty had not strengthened me, if the lover of my soul had not chosen me, if my Savior had not rescued me….

I would be what I was and what I deserve to be.

Nothing.  Useless.  Lifeless.  Utterly without hope.

If there is anything good in me, You placed it there. 

If there is anything good that has come from me, You drew it out. 

If there is anything I have done that has been praised, it is You who deserves the honor.

My transgressions caused my vitality to vanish, but You brought me back to life.

You have set my feet on ground that is forever solid; You have provided me purpose that was previously beyond my grasp.

Let me, O God, forever be humble. 

Let me forever be grateful. 

Let me forever bring praise to the One who is eternally deserving.

Jesus.

The Messiah.

My King.

Food and Faith

I never liked Sloppy Joe day at school.  The sloppiness of joe would cause the bread that it was splattered upon to become too soggy to pick up and eat.  Actually eating one was like putting a whole lot of nasty in my mouth and feeling obligated to finish the job by swallowing without really chewing.  Like vomitting in reverse.

Chili day was always perplexing to me.  Nowhere else but in a school cafeteria would chili be served with half of a peanut butter sandwich.  Why a peanut butter sandwich and why only half?  “Here, kid–eat this bowl of barely recognizable swill.  And to go with it, here’s something that makes no sense that you actually might be able to stomach, but you only get half.”

Friday’s were much better.  I approached going to the cafeteria on Fridays with gleeful abandon knowing that I would get to eat something that I half-way enjoyed–a hamburger.  Alright, it was more relief that I didn’t have to try to eat anything gross than gleeful abandon and it was really some type of hamburger that did not contain anything closely related to real meat.  But that didn’t matter.  It was still something that half-way excited me, which is more emotion than I can muster for most foods now.

I still have my favorites.  Chicken-n-dumplings would be good for every meal followed by an overwhelming bowl of Rocky Road ice cream.  I fully expect this to be the menu every day in Heaven.  My wife’s aunt believes that she’s going to have a mansion built for her right beside a chocolate river when she reaches her eternal reward.  My mother-in-law expects to be greeted by all of her dead animals (except for Dolly) when she makes it inside the gate.  It is a widely held belief among certain family members that Dolly, a cocker spaniel with a wicked temper, busted Hell wide open when she assumed room temperature.  Compararatively speaking, my chicken-n-dumpling/rocky road theory doesn’t sound too crazy, does it?

Even though I like those two foods, I don’t really get wild-eyed in my excitement for either.  There is one thing, though, that truly brings out the culinary beast that is lurking deep inside of me.  One thing that causes me to transform from a mild-mannered, nerdish kind of a guy into a hybrid of Paula Deen and the Incredible Hulk.  “HULK EAT, YA’LL!”

And that one thing is….

Seeing the “Hot Now” sign lit up at a Kristy Kreme Doughnut location.  Just wring those words has caused drool to begin forming at both sides of my mouth.  Pavlov’s dogs had a bell, I have the “Hot Now” sign.  I have no problem admitting this and you shouldn’t either.  I know that gluttony is a sin, but you have to eat at least more than four at one time for this to qualify, right?  Maybe not, but that’s what I’ll go with for now.

Kristy and I were drawn to the Krispy Kreme on Broadway by that sign a few weeks ago.  But instead of sinking our teeth into delightly fresh doghnuts, we experienced stunning disappointment. 

Inexplicably, I allowed my lovely wife talk me in to taking her and the kids to a livestock auction in Halls.  If you have never been to an auction of this nature, do yourself a favor and keep it that way.  It was crowded, loud, smelly, and a little fascinating.  Fascination can only overcome so much. 

After the auction was cut short and everyone in attendance was asked leave by people whom I assume were the owners, we did the sensible thing and left.  One of them threatened to turn the electricity off if we all weren’t gone in 15 minutes.  I was amazed at the number of people that didn’t leave.  If there is anything rednecks love more than Skoal and Dale Earnhardt, it’s a good riot.

We drove to a restaurant on Broadway to eat a late supper and that is when we saw the “Hot Now” sign on at the the Krispy Kreme across the street.  I looked at Kristy and she looked at me, our eyebrows went up at the same time, and I knew that we were in agreement about our next stop.  The sign became unlit before we finished our meal, but that did not matter.  We were going.

On our way there, Kristy said that we should get a dozen for us and a dozen for her sister who volunteers on Saturday nights with a local Rescue Squad.  I told her that her idea was fine with me.  She could have suggested that we buy a dozen for us and buy another dozen to mail to Kim Jong-il; as long as I got to have some, it really didn’t matter to me.

I pulled into their parking lot and headed to the drive-thru with my mind enraptured with the thought of feasting on doughuts.  I made it to the speaker and rolled down my window, but before I could place my order the voice on the other end delivered mind-blowing information.

They were out of glazed donuts!

I stared in silent disbelief at the speaker for a few eternal seconds.  Then I looked at Kristy, totally at a loss for what to do.  It was unfathomable and I was incredulous.  I told the bearer of bad news that we would be leaving and drove off, mouth agape. 

How could Krispy Kreme be out of the one thing that they are known for?  When I go to Taco Bell, I expect them to have tacos.  When I go to a bookstore, I expect to them to have books? When I go to a flea-market, I expect them to have a lot of crap that I don’t need.  And when I go to Krispy Kreme, I expect them to have glazed donuts.

Later that night, I began thinking about our trip to Krispy Kreme and the disappointment that ensued.  I came to the conclusion that Krispy Kreme not having glazed donuts is not as bad as Christians not having faith, love, power, courage, and all of the other attributes that should be present.

If you were to read the book of Acts without ever having the experience of being around believers are attending any church services, what would you expect believers and churches to be like?  You would probably expect Christians to be dynamic, full of power, and teeming with excitement.  You would probably expect church services to be a demonstration of the Holy Spirit’s presence.

You probably would not expect to find what you would  probably find; Christians more concerned with style than substance who exhibit little enthusiasm and no power and church services that are dull and lifeless.

There are plenty of theories on how things got this way.  From Christians neglecting the Holy Spirit, to us not praying with fervency for what matters most, to the consumer mindset that has infiltrated so many churches, to a lack of holiness among the Body of Christ, to a whole list of items that could depress us to the point of breaking down.

More important than how this happened is what we need to do about it. 

We need to confess to God our sins.  We need to plead for Him to fill us with the Holy Spirit.  We need to walk by faith and not be sight.  We need to be more concerned with following Christ than we are with our own comfort.  We need need more people interested in serving than in being served. 

We need to be shaken.

I once heard someone say that the Body of Christ is walking with a limp; I’m afraid that we are not walking at all.

Krispy Kreme not having what they are know for was disappointing.  Christians and churches not having what we should be known for is a shame. 

More than that, it is sin.

I pray for forgiveness and for a new awakening among the people of God.  I pray for God to make Himself heard through the noise and chaos that has invaded our lives.  I pray that we are made uncomfortable with how things are so that we will seek diligently for how things ought to be.

And I pray that it happens soon.

Ramblings of Praise, Part 5

How long must this struggle continue?  How long must I wait for the culmination of the victory?

Though I am a new creation, still the urge to depart from Your truth is present; the desire to lean on my own understanding persists.

Day after day I am reminded of Your greatness; night after night all that I see declares that You are exalted above the nations.

Groans rise up from my soul; despairing groans as one who longs for an unatainable goal.

The holiness of my God is piercing; the righteousness of the Holy One removes my ability to hide.

The war in my members grows in intensity; becoming greater than those who surround me comprehend. 

Staggered by the blows that I deal to myself, I do not dare surrender. 

Wearied by the constant combat; weakened from fending off unseen foes; weeping inwardly for the end to be near.

Surely You have heard my plea, O God!  Surely You care for my life!

Why must there be a delay?  Why must I keep going?

You love me, yet offer no answers; You have known the end from the beginning, but refuse to let me see.

The command to trust the One who I can not see through trials that seem to have no end is placed before me. 

Pleading for strength, I continue on; praying for persistence, I brace for the fight.

Help me trust You, O God, so that my life may bring You glory as the war inside of me continues to rage.

Let me remain near to You so that I may gain wisdom at Your feet.

Keep me in Your path all of my days so that all may see that Your grace is enough for even the weakest of them all.

I Am Not a Pansy

As I child, I didn’t know many men who looked like Mr. McGowan.  He was the gym teacher at Sunnyview Elementary School and it seemed like he was almost seven feet tall.  Of course, he was much shorter than that.  The illusion of remarkable height was probably made possible by his short, gym-teacher shorts (the ones with the big waist band and way too many pockets), his knee high tube socks with 3 horizontal stripes at the top, and his extra-long torso covered with a skin-tight shirt.  I half expected his shirt to explode open from the strain every time he demonstrated how to do a back-bend.

I remember him lining all of the kids in my class up in rows to begin our state-mandated time of exercise.  He would demand silence and march back and forth like he was a general preparing his wide-eyed pre-pubescent soldiers to storm and seize control of the rest of the school.  I’m not sure how far we would have gotten, but I know we could have taken control of the library before the cross-eyed librarian knew what hit her.  The cafeteria would have been our Waterloo.

As he peered at us, I often felt like I was being watched by a bird of prey.  His nose was elongated and beak-like; sort of like the tip of it was afraid of the rest of his face and was trying to get as far away as possible.  His eyes were also eagle-ish and I am sure that there is no life on other planets; if there were Mr. McGowan would have seen them from here and alerted the proper authorities. 

Now, I am sure that Mr. McGowan enjoyed his job and took seriously the responsibility he had of helping us live better, healthier, and longer.  He was successful at holding our attention and, for the most part, making the class fun.  I really did like him.  However, there were times when I felt like choking him with his own whistle-string.

In my opinion, there are better ways to motivate a child than by calling him a pansy.  Mr. McGowan disagreed.

At the time, I didn’t know that a pansy was a flower.  All I knew was that it was what Mr. McGowan called students when they couldn’t do all of their push-ups or sit-ups or when they couldn’t run as long as the others.  And it sounded far worse than calling someone a sissy.

Most of the time, it really did not bother me.  I knew what he was trying to do and I respected him for pushing us to do the best that we could do.  It did bother me, though, in those times when I did do the best that I could do and he called me a pansy anyway.  Being a kid with a low self-esteem to begin with didn’t help.

Since that time, I have been called things far worse than pansy.  I know that you have, too.  In fact, what people have said and done to you may be far worse than anything anyone has ever said or done to me.  We live in a world filled with evil and we can’t always be protected from it. 

But we can control our reaction to it by not allowing the words and deeds of others to define who we are.

We are not something just because we are labeled a certain way or treated a certain way.  You are not trash, stupid, dumb, ugly, retarded, a whore, useless, arrogant, ridiculous, hateful, mean, fat, brainless, meaningless, slow, gross, hideous, repugnant, scum, filthy, or anything else just because someone calls you that or treats you that way.

You are a creation of Almighty God.  You are one for whom Jesus died.  You have a reason to exist. 

And if you have accepted the gift of salvation, you have the Holy Spirt dwelling within you.

It’s amazing what people believe about themselves.  It’s astonishing that we allow other people to have so much control over our emotions.  It’s sad that so many suffer without knowing the truth.

I am not a pansy. 

You are not worthless.

We have a great God who designed us as we are and loves us completely.

When I was a child and feeling down, I would wait until my mother sat down and work my way onto her lap.  I knew if I made it there that I would be comforted, loved, and encouraged.

It is the same with God.  As we come to Him, we can know that He will never turn us away and in His arms we will always find perfect comfort, unending love, and divine encouragement. 

Maybe you need to stop whatever you are doing and rest in His lap for a few moments.  There is nothing quite like it.

Ramblings of Praise, Part 4

As I rose this morning and peered out at the world, I knew again of Your greatness.

Fog, dew, creatures all bathed in the light of the early morning sang praises in my soul to Your great name.

With the morning came busyness and distractions,

Yet You created in me a heart meant to praise; so I gave glory to You in the midst of chaos.

Your attributes, Your character, Your complete otherness astounds me;

The miracle of Your love for those so unworthy takes my mind into captivity.

Compared to Your grandeur, O God, I am less than a worm, more putrid than a maggot, below the level of uselessness.

But You have chosen to lift me up;

You have chosen to redeem;

You have chosen to sanctify.

Having no speck of goodness in my flesh, You chose to gift me with the righteousness of Your Son.

It is in Christ alone that I am able to stand before You;

It is in trusting the sacrifice that He gave.

Though I was once counted among the heathen, I am now counted as Your child. 

Though I was once doomed for destruction, I am now walking in the Spirit.

Though I was born in iniquity, I have been born again to live in Your presence.

O my God, may the splendor that I see in Your creation be apparent in my life;

May Your brightness that is displayed in the heavens be reflected in my countenance;

May I ever be found bringing glory to Your name.

Though the years pass and my body grows weary, may I be found praising God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit,

Forever.

Amen.

Ramblings of Praise, Part 3

When it seemed as though I had arrived at a point of loving you tremendously; when all the signs pointed to my faith being strong…

I failed.

In ways that I had previously, I failed. 

In ways that infuriate me, I failed.

In ways that I should have expected, I failed.

Feeling like a fraud, like a con-man, like a hypocrite.

Disgusted and dismayed , I knew that a beating was deserved.

Finding no one to pummel me, I did it myself.

With words and with thoughts; with hatred for myself and anguish in my heart.

Until….

Until you called my name.

Until you made yourself heard.

Until you reminded me who I am.

I am Yours. 

Your child.

The apple of Your eye.

One whom You created for Your good pleasure.

The grace in Your voice, the love in Your eyes, the openness of Your arms drew me back to the only one I need.

You.

You called me to repent and provided the ability to do so. 

You picked me up and placed me on solid footing. 

You did for me what I did not deserve, what I could not do for myself.

Now I am….

Forgiven.

Cradled in Your arms.

Empowered by Your Spirit.

On my way Home.

Depending on You.

Forever.