Sunday, December 29, 2013
Pure Religion (Spiritual Journey Memoirs part II)
When I reflect on the earliest, most influential moments of my spiritual journey, it will come as no surprise to those who know anything of my family that my mother was truly the most formative person in my life. Without her, I'm not sure at all about the person I would be but I thank God that in his sovereign plan He gave me her as my mother. Her life was a sermon to me growing up; the daily grind, her pulpit. I have early memories of her tender servant's heart for God's most vulnerable and fragile, particularly widows.
She really did have a gift. When I was really little--like any child who thinks any activity without toys is a waste of time--I dreaded sitting for what seemed an eternity while she talked, talked, talked. I would realize later that Mom was teaching me some of the most powerful lessons of my life. There was one particular lady who mom visited for several years. She would wash her hair, make her food and her favorite dessert: gingerbread. This little lady was of extremely humble means. I remember sitting on her sofa and falling into it. My child's heart, self-centered as it was, began to feel a deep feeling I had never felt before. It was compassion. Deep, deep compassion. I began to look forward to every visit. To hear her stories and see her big sweet smile. She loved my mother and it was my mother she called for when she lay in a hospital bed passing from this life. In her last hours on earth she blessed Mom in a very Abrahamic way, laying her hand on Mom's head and praying for God's blessings on her. She had already instructed Mom what to dress her in when she passed, a dress Mom had sown for her. She wanted to go out "pretty." I would pass her old house in recent years on the way to the obstetrician during each pregnancy. Every single time I would think of her and usually tell whoever was in the car with me the same stories.
Over the years there would always be widows such as her. At the time I didn't realize how much I was learning. I was too young to understand the power of her example. Not only did she teach me scripture directly and pray with me, but she made it real by living it out. I cannot read James 1:27 without thinking of her:
"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world."
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Sons and Daughters of Time
Sons and
Daughters of Time
He was the
first. The original son. Created good. Created free.
He was given
life, a garden, a beautiful companion, a soul and a terrible choice.
He fell.
With him,
into the chains of death we became bound.
Now sons and
daughters of Adam. Sons and daughters of
time.
From
generation to generation, the bitter robe of mortality in which to be clothed.
We fell.
Time passed.
Creation groaned. Sorrow filled the earth.
Sons and daughters
of time tethered in the bondage of sin’s depravity, decay, and death.
The curse of
a fate to love that which is destined to die.
The sorrow
of loss as inevitable as the setting sun.
Yet even
death was unable to destroy one item more powerful….hope.
We looked
ahead and groaned in eager expectation…
The chorus
of all Creation led by the Sons and Daughters of time…
Lifting
voices of “How long Oh, Lord? How long?”
The pendulum
swung and the moment finally arrived.
The Second
Adam came.
This time
Divine of Divine
God of God
The Eternal
One clothed in the flesh of time and mortality
The Timeless
one given just a few years
Destined to
die.
Creation
watched.
Like a
breath taken in sharply, waiting to exhale
Is He the
One?
Time bent to
Him, Creation obeyed his voice
Demons fled.
The earth shook. Death itself shivered.
The Cross.
The Sons and
Daughters of time joining together to take away life from the One who gave it…
The Father
turned his face, his earthy mother watching…wept.
The sword that
was to pierce her heart, found its mark.
“Forgive
them!” The God-man cried.
Even from
the Cross he saved…
Then the
Second Adam died.
Tombs were
opened, the dead even walked
The sacred
temple curtain torn apart.
Death
quaked. Death’s time was coming.
The pendulum
swung again.
Three days
later death’s turn came, his time no more.
The serpent’s
head was crushed and Eve remembered her Father’s words….
That which
is dead, is now made alive in Him…the Second Adam…
Death has
been dethroned, the crown snatched and given to his Nemesis named Life.
From chains
of sin, set free…
The blind
will see,
The dead
will rise…
Sons and
Daughters of time no more…
Now Children
of Eternity.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
The Crack We All Ignored: Part I
In college I remember a class in education where the professor made us write our 'reading autobiography'. We all felt strange having an assignment such as this, like this was a colossal waste of time and totally didn't see the purpose whatsoever. When it was over however, and we looked at the process it took to stand back and view how our earliest memories/experiences w/literature formed how we view reading, we saw the value. Our attitudes and methods reflected each of our unique experience bases and formed the very foundation that our classrooms would be built upon. Our students would be helped or hindered as a result of who we were and what we brought to the classroom. Turned out to be a very useful assignment...and I still have a copy of that reading autobiography. Only a few items survived college but this was one of them.
In the same way, I've found myself looking back over the years to my earliest memories of God, of church, and of the Bible and stepping back to see how those earliest experiences and memories have shaped so much of who I am and how the journey of faith has played out in my own life. As I was living the moments I was not really aware of how God was working in the moment yet looking back at the experiences of 37+ years, I can now see in retrospect that God, in his mercy, has always been there for me w/a plan much larger than me, yet allowing me to participate in a tiny way in the Gospel plan that was in his mind before the foundation of the world. It is humbling. I hope the next few blogs will be my 'spiritual autobiography'...mainly for my own therapeutic purposes...but also something to leave my children to read someday...and hopefully something that can help those w/ similar backgrounds to read and feel a certain kinship. It will be funny in part, serious in part...but in the end it is my story. Much of it is of course, biased. It will be what I saw and experienced from the time I was about 3 years old and after...so experiences and church, etc, as seen through the eyes of myself *as a child*. Keep that in mind as you read. How a child saw church, God and the Bible...
The earliest memories I have of church is a giant crack. Yep. But I'll get to that in a sec. Our church building was a tiny building and for some reason every church that was like ours had the same architecture...a big room w/pulpit in front, baptistry behind...door on each side of the baptistry. The pews, or in our church...it was the horrifyingly uncomfortable wooden fold chairs that were connected like a pew...so 'pew-chairs' that literally were a pain in the backside. Mom would bring a mat to lay on the floor and beg me to sleep through church. There was no nursery, there as no 'children's church'. There were no Bible classes. All of these things were considered 'unscriptural innovations' so my earliest memories was that church was not and I mean NOT for kids. You just sat down, shut up, and behaved or you'd get carried out and no joke, you'd get swats from a tree switch if you misbehaved. Yes, I have very distinct memories of being swatted w/a tree switch, as many kids did back then.
I remember a lot of feet....I'd lay on that mat mom brought and look at all the feet...I liked to look at shoes. There was one gal about 4-5 years older than me...I loved her sandals and would always search them out and look at them while laying on the mat. Then I'd look up at the ceiling....from the pulpit all the way to the front door was a huge crack down the ceiling. NO JOKE. I would look at that crack and think "Am I the only one afraid the ceiling is about to cave in?? Why does NO ONE SEEM TO NOTICE THE CRACK???" I even ask Mom about the crack. She'd didn't know anything about it other than it was there and it never caved in so it must be okay. Not a Sunday passed that that crack didn't bother me.
Don't remember any sermons except I could have sworn one was about Mork and Mindy but remember, I was a kid...most likely it was an illustration in the sermon but all all I remember of years of sermons was something about Mork and Mindy.
I remember there was always a strange 2nd sermon...when this older fellow would get up and talk, talk, talk before dismissing...and he'd be tinkering w/the hymn book and I just remember thinking "Please make him stop...I'm so tired..what is he talking about?? Is he going to ever address the crack in the ceiling??". To this day I don't know what he talked about....maybe it was announcements but gee whiz, it seemed to be longer than the sermon but no mention about that crack.
I remember communion because we kids like to follow the same older gentleman after church because he would throw the left over grape juice down the restroom sink and for some reason we liked to watch it do down the drain spiraling all purple like that, and sometimes he'd let us pour it down the drain, which we thought was 'way cool'.
After church I'd go climb on our car...yes ON THE CAR. I'd lay on the windshield looking over the roof of the car and watch passing cars and 'preach to them'. I'd tell them all about Hell and how not to go there...and I'd just preach, preach, preach. To this day, I have no idea why I did that. I think I was always a mimic-er. I liked to mimic. And I did a fine job...lots and lots about Hell. I never remember preaching about Heaven.
My knowledge base for the Bible did not come from church at all until I was a teenager. Mom taught me all I knew about the Lord and his word. She'd tell me story after story after story...while washing dishes, while folding clothes, while cleaning house. Jesus was her 1st love. Honestly, she taught me a great deal. I would ask her to tell me another story. One day I said "Mom, tell me one I haven't heard before". That was the day she told me about Balaam and his talking donkey. My mother. She was the one who taught me Jesus and to love Him and his word above everything else. Though I thought church was not for kids, it didn't bother me because I didn't know there were alternatives to this set-up. I looked forward to growing up and having church but in the meantime, one thing I knew. Jesus was for kids.
I talked to God as a kid...probably more in line w/how kids talk to invisible playmates but the wonderful thing was, was that I felt I could talk to Him. I loved him and wanted to know him more and more. Those were my earliest memories of him.
Even though church wasn't for kids back then, my sister and I sure played church at home...we even played communion w/saltines and grape juice. We'd lead songs, we'd preach. Other friends even tell me they played baptisms...like w/cats and dogs. Baptizing a cat. I wish I would have thought of that...that would have made a great memory indeed. LOL We didn't baptize animals but we still played church nonetheless.
It never occurred to me that anything was really amiss. It was what it was. A kid doesn't think to analyze and ask is there another way or better way. It is what it is. Like the crack going down the entire building. It didn't bother anyone else. It bothered me. I couldn't quite define why...but there was always something in my soul gently whispering that something was very very wrong..this would develop over many years but at that young and innocent age, it simply was what it was...yet even then I realized a crack like that shouldn't be ignored. Maybe just maybe, there was something better, something more but would be years before I would mature enough to begin to see it and address it.
In the same way, I've found myself looking back over the years to my earliest memories of God, of church, and of the Bible and stepping back to see how those earliest experiences and memories have shaped so much of who I am and how the journey of faith has played out in my own life. As I was living the moments I was not really aware of how God was working in the moment yet looking back at the experiences of 37+ years, I can now see in retrospect that God, in his mercy, has always been there for me w/a plan much larger than me, yet allowing me to participate in a tiny way in the Gospel plan that was in his mind before the foundation of the world. It is humbling. I hope the next few blogs will be my 'spiritual autobiography'...mainly for my own therapeutic purposes...but also something to leave my children to read someday...and hopefully something that can help those w/ similar backgrounds to read and feel a certain kinship. It will be funny in part, serious in part...but in the end it is my story. Much of it is of course, biased. It will be what I saw and experienced from the time I was about 3 years old and after...so experiences and church, etc, as seen through the eyes of myself *as a child*. Keep that in mind as you read. How a child saw church, God and the Bible...
The earliest memories I have of church is a giant crack. Yep. But I'll get to that in a sec. Our church building was a tiny building and for some reason every church that was like ours had the same architecture...a big room w/pulpit in front, baptistry behind...door on each side of the baptistry. The pews, or in our church...it was the horrifyingly uncomfortable wooden fold chairs that were connected like a pew...so 'pew-chairs' that literally were a pain in the backside. Mom would bring a mat to lay on the floor and beg me to sleep through church. There was no nursery, there as no 'children's church'. There were no Bible classes. All of these things were considered 'unscriptural innovations' so my earliest memories was that church was not and I mean NOT for kids. You just sat down, shut up, and behaved or you'd get carried out and no joke, you'd get swats from a tree switch if you misbehaved. Yes, I have very distinct memories of being swatted w/a tree switch, as many kids did back then.
I remember a lot of feet....I'd lay on that mat mom brought and look at all the feet...I liked to look at shoes. There was one gal about 4-5 years older than me...I loved her sandals and would always search them out and look at them while laying on the mat. Then I'd look up at the ceiling....from the pulpit all the way to the front door was a huge crack down the ceiling. NO JOKE. I would look at that crack and think "Am I the only one afraid the ceiling is about to cave in?? Why does NO ONE SEEM TO NOTICE THE CRACK???" I even ask Mom about the crack. She'd didn't know anything about it other than it was there and it never caved in so it must be okay. Not a Sunday passed that that crack didn't bother me.
Don't remember any sermons except I could have sworn one was about Mork and Mindy but remember, I was a kid...most likely it was an illustration in the sermon but all all I remember of years of sermons was something about Mork and Mindy.
I remember there was always a strange 2nd sermon...when this older fellow would get up and talk, talk, talk before dismissing...and he'd be tinkering w/the hymn book and I just remember thinking "Please make him stop...I'm so tired..what is he talking about?? Is he going to ever address the crack in the ceiling??". To this day I don't know what he talked about....maybe it was announcements but gee whiz, it seemed to be longer than the sermon but no mention about that crack.
I remember communion because we kids like to follow the same older gentleman after church because he would throw the left over grape juice down the restroom sink and for some reason we liked to watch it do down the drain spiraling all purple like that, and sometimes he'd let us pour it down the drain, which we thought was 'way cool'.
After church I'd go climb on our car...yes ON THE CAR. I'd lay on the windshield looking over the roof of the car and watch passing cars and 'preach to them'. I'd tell them all about Hell and how not to go there...and I'd just preach, preach, preach. To this day, I have no idea why I did that. I think I was always a mimic-er. I liked to mimic. And I did a fine job...lots and lots about Hell. I never remember preaching about Heaven.
My knowledge base for the Bible did not come from church at all until I was a teenager. Mom taught me all I knew about the Lord and his word. She'd tell me story after story after story...while washing dishes, while folding clothes, while cleaning house. Jesus was her 1st love. Honestly, she taught me a great deal. I would ask her to tell me another story. One day I said "Mom, tell me one I haven't heard before". That was the day she told me about Balaam and his talking donkey. My mother. She was the one who taught me Jesus and to love Him and his word above everything else. Though I thought church was not for kids, it didn't bother me because I didn't know there were alternatives to this set-up. I looked forward to growing up and having church but in the meantime, one thing I knew. Jesus was for kids.
I talked to God as a kid...probably more in line w/how kids talk to invisible playmates but the wonderful thing was, was that I felt I could talk to Him. I loved him and wanted to know him more and more. Those were my earliest memories of him.
Even though church wasn't for kids back then, my sister and I sure played church at home...we even played communion w/saltines and grape juice. We'd lead songs, we'd preach. Other friends even tell me they played baptisms...like w/cats and dogs. Baptizing a cat. I wish I would have thought of that...that would have made a great memory indeed. LOL We didn't baptize animals but we still played church nonetheless.
It never occurred to me that anything was really amiss. It was what it was. A kid doesn't think to analyze and ask is there another way or better way. It is what it is. Like the crack going down the entire building. It didn't bother anyone else. It bothered me. I couldn't quite define why...but there was always something in my soul gently whispering that something was very very wrong..this would develop over many years but at that young and innocent age, it simply was what it was...yet even then I realized a crack like that shouldn't be ignored. Maybe just maybe, there was something better, something more but would be years before I would mature enough to begin to see it and address it.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Have Yourself a Merry, Legalistic Christmas....
Well, it's true. Christmas was something our family struggled with my whole life and just reflected the underlying problem of a pervasive mindset of legalism. You see, as a kid, each year we frankly didn't know what to do w/Christmas. Mom had such fond memories of Christmas as a kid so part of her wanted to celebrate it full throttle. On the other hand, there was also the idea pervasive around us of hotly opposing Christmas as a 'religious holiday' that Mom became downright afraid to have it at all. I don't blame her. She sincerely wanted to please the Lord and add social pressure to the mix...and legalism...well, you cannot blame her one bit. She's a godly woman who honestly couldn't decide what to do so it varied year to year.
As a result of sincere and serious conflict in our hearts, some Christmases we went ahead and put up some decorations...very careful to avoid any Nativity scenes, crosses, or any other such reference to Jesus. Yes, we were Christians but we knew the fact that Christmas was not the literal birthday of Jesus and therefore saw any celebration including Jesus as somehow sinful. So there were the Semi-Christmas years...the ones in which we celebrated Christmas but only in a secular, Jesus-less way. Bring on Santa, Frosty and Rudolph, but no Jesus. Ho, Ho, Ho....Merry Christ-less-Mas.
Then there were the years we were so focused on the rampant materialism, consumerism, and selfishness of the season and disgusted by it, we just didn't do Christmas at all except giving our family members a gift and having family time on Christmas. Mom worked in a grocery store and she could tell you that Christmas brought out the worst in people...so we felt jaded, like Christmas represented the worst of hypocritical people. Those years were just barren and sad from my perspective...and as a kid/teenager, when a year like that happened, all I could do was *sigh* and realize we were doing this out of conscience sake so suck it up and endure it...ball and chain Christianity. **Sigh** Moving on....
Then there were the confusing years of having made other Christian friends from other Christian 'tribes' who were horrified at our anti-Jesus stance at Christmas. They observed our Happy Holidays card w/a merry Santa and smiling Snowman and no Jesus and couldn't believe we professed Christianity at all. Then I was really confused. You mean the Atheists and I celebrated this holiday the same? More confusion....What do I do about Christmas?? I wanted what those Christians had...they seemed so joyous at Christmas and it wasn't because of the Santa, Frosty or Rudolph. During those years, all I could do was be envious. So much for my righteousness for not celebrating Christmas....:-)
The most liberating moment in my life in regards to Christmas came when I took a passage of scripture to heart from Romans 14:
5 One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind. 6 Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord. Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God.
What's amazing is God makes room for different points of view! There is no 1 way to do Christmas. For those who truly feel Jesus is displeased in including him in the holiday and therefore regard this day as any other day...that is to God's Glory because in your devotion you are making a decision w/Christ as center. Yet, bearing it as a ball and chain is wrong and defeats the purpose. If this is how you truly feel Christ would have you spend Christmas...even though you regard it as any other day...regard it w/joy and w/Christ as center as in any other day. No ball and chain. No 'having-to- endure-act-of-piety'. Be joyous and spend it in a way that points to Jesus...as any other day. Don't exclude Him on ANY day. Basically, don't do what I did. :-) It brings no glory to God and only suffering to oneself...needless suffering.
For those who realize setting time aside to focus on Christ's birth and use it as a time to connect this w/the Gospel, and being salt/light in a dark world, we also are doing this to bring glory to God. There is this freedom in Christ and we do this to the glory of our Lord. Romans 14 is perfect in allowing for special days....holidays...that glorify Him in the celebrating.
So how do I spend Christmas now? As you can imagine, I pretty much throw myself in full throttle...like a child growing up in a famine starved country, suddenly in front of the fullest, most aromatic buffet ever seen...and I pile my plate high....:-)
Now I spend Christmas focused on the anticipation of Christ's incarnation on Earth (Advent)...trying in my feeble ways as they are...to keep Him central in the holiday that is honoring his birth into this fallen world. The fairy tale characters are kept as that...fairy tales like any fairy tale to bring joy to children...but heaven forbid they are the focus any longer. Christ centered...family oriented...bringing joy to adult and child alike. No more ball and chains for me...yet also no more judging. There is freedom in Christ...but I must be okay w/those who choose to not embrace it, and honor the Lord differently than I do. I must bless them and realize what I choose to do is no better than what they choose NOT to do. Gone is my heart of judgement. I'm so thankful, God makes room for diversity under the Cross...and under the Christmas tree. :-) Merry Christmas...or not...it's up to you...but to God be the Glory in all the choices we make in this life.
As a result of sincere and serious conflict in our hearts, some Christmases we went ahead and put up some decorations...very careful to avoid any Nativity scenes, crosses, or any other such reference to Jesus. Yes, we were Christians but we knew the fact that Christmas was not the literal birthday of Jesus and therefore saw any celebration including Jesus as somehow sinful. So there were the Semi-Christmas years...the ones in which we celebrated Christmas but only in a secular, Jesus-less way. Bring on Santa, Frosty and Rudolph, but no Jesus. Ho, Ho, Ho....Merry Christ-less-Mas.
Then there were the years we were so focused on the rampant materialism, consumerism, and selfishness of the season and disgusted by it, we just didn't do Christmas at all except giving our family members a gift and having family time on Christmas. Mom worked in a grocery store and she could tell you that Christmas brought out the worst in people...so we felt jaded, like Christmas represented the worst of hypocritical people. Those years were just barren and sad from my perspective...and as a kid/teenager, when a year like that happened, all I could do was *sigh* and realize we were doing this out of conscience sake so suck it up and endure it...ball and chain Christianity. **Sigh** Moving on....
Then there were the confusing years of having made other Christian friends from other Christian 'tribes' who were horrified at our anti-Jesus stance at Christmas. They observed our Happy Holidays card w/a merry Santa and smiling Snowman and no Jesus and couldn't believe we professed Christianity at all. Then I was really confused. You mean the Atheists and I celebrated this holiday the same? More confusion....What do I do about Christmas?? I wanted what those Christians had...they seemed so joyous at Christmas and it wasn't because of the Santa, Frosty or Rudolph. During those years, all I could do was be envious. So much for my righteousness for not celebrating Christmas....:-)
The most liberating moment in my life in regards to Christmas came when I took a passage of scripture to heart from Romans 14:
5 One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind. 6 Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord. Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God.
What's amazing is God makes room for different points of view! There is no 1 way to do Christmas. For those who truly feel Jesus is displeased in including him in the holiday and therefore regard this day as any other day...that is to God's Glory because in your devotion you are making a decision w/Christ as center. Yet, bearing it as a ball and chain is wrong and defeats the purpose. If this is how you truly feel Christ would have you spend Christmas...even though you regard it as any other day...regard it w/joy and w/Christ as center as in any other day. No ball and chain. No 'having-to- endure-act-of-piety'. Be joyous and spend it in a way that points to Jesus...as any other day. Don't exclude Him on ANY day. Basically, don't do what I did. :-) It brings no glory to God and only suffering to oneself...needless suffering.
For those who realize setting time aside to focus on Christ's birth and use it as a time to connect this w/the Gospel, and being salt/light in a dark world, we also are doing this to bring glory to God. There is this freedom in Christ and we do this to the glory of our Lord. Romans 14 is perfect in allowing for special days....holidays...that glorify Him in the celebrating.
So how do I spend Christmas now? As you can imagine, I pretty much throw myself in full throttle...like a child growing up in a famine starved country, suddenly in front of the fullest, most aromatic buffet ever seen...and I pile my plate high....:-)
Now I spend Christmas focused on the anticipation of Christ's incarnation on Earth (Advent)...trying in my feeble ways as they are...to keep Him central in the holiday that is honoring his birth into this fallen world. The fairy tale characters are kept as that...fairy tales like any fairy tale to bring joy to children...but heaven forbid they are the focus any longer. Christ centered...family oriented...bringing joy to adult and child alike. No more ball and chains for me...yet also no more judging. There is freedom in Christ...but I must be okay w/those who choose to not embrace it, and honor the Lord differently than I do. I must bless them and realize what I choose to do is no better than what they choose NOT to do. Gone is my heart of judgement. I'm so thankful, God makes room for diversity under the Cross...and under the Christmas tree. :-) Merry Christmas...or not...it's up to you...but to God be the Glory in all the choices we make in this life.
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