Diet... sort of

Have you heard of the "paper diet"?

It is not the kind of diet we have grown accustomed to, but for me it seems even more difficult.  If that's even possible.  This is the process of eradicating paper from your life and your home..... piles, stacks, bundles of paper.  This may not seem like a big deal, but let me tell you it is.  I have recently begun to wonder if the state of the sacks in my home, purse, life are not evidence of the state of my heart.... and that is extremely troubling to me.

These stacks of paper are often nothing more than deposits of debris, I can't seems to let go of.  More realistically, they are issues that I can't, won't, or am unable to deal with... not be because I am unable.  Well, that might not be exactly correct either.  But it is just paper! What is the deal?!

I think there must be something much more deeply rooted in this issue of ... do I dare say... hoarding? I hold onto junk mail that I want to review, catalogs which picture things I covet if I only had the money, letters that require attention at some unknown future time, school paper with stars and stickers, arts, crafts, notes, lists, programs, phone numbers, emails, the list is truly endless.... it goes on, and on, and on, just like my paper. 

This morning something occurred to me while reading the scriptures.  Matthew 6.19 "Don't store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them, and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal them."  Now bear with me, I have read this verse over many times before.... right, right, right, don't be a hoarder.  But it wasn't until this morning that it occurred to me that this goes for my piles too.  I always thought of the command to be for keeping those things that were of value, not my pile.  Who would want to steal my plies of paper?

However, the Word also tells us in Hebrew 12.1 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."   To throw off everything....  EVERYTHING.  Even my piles? Even my piles.  See, these pile do not make my life easy.  They hinder me.  They hinder me from being effective, from being productive, from being organized, from doing a lot of the things that God has called me to be.  My piles are a bit of control for me I guess.  If I have these things, these pieces of paper, these reminders then I won't forget. I will be able to handle my life.  But just like sin, these piles masquerade themselves to be good when in actuality, the very thing that appears to be good in my life is my nemesis.  The very thing that I hold onto in an attempt to maintain control is the one thing that spins me out of control.

Control.  That is for God anyway.  That is what I have said.  I will surrender to Him daily who is my Jehovah Jireh, God my Provider.  I have allowed Him access to my life. Given Him Lordship over my heart, but this one area....  Do I really think He cannot handle my piles?  Do I trust Him to provide?  Am I afraid of being less than I am, of not being able, or capable of handling the matters of my family.  Maybe, but isn't that God's job anyway?  He has given me the tools I need in order to be as organized a any "normal" mother of three.  Is any mother of three able to find "normal"?

It is time to let go.  But what if I forget?  What if I never gain read those preschool scribbles on a scrap paper that says "I <3 mom"? What if I forget about the amazing pencil drawing of a ballerina done in the spare time of my 'tweener?  What if I forget about the devotions intently written during Sunday school of my nearly adult daughter?  In the greater scheme of things.... I wonder if it matters?

Praying for God to provide me with the grace, strength, and courage I need to go on a paper diet.  To eradicate unnecessary paper from my life.The first part of the word diet is "die."  Christ has called me to die to self daily.  I guess this issue of clutter is one I need to begin to process through, with God in control, of all of my life.... including the clutter.

Trying to get close enough to be cover in the dust today~
Christy

Young Mother Mary

Tonight's blog post is another monologue, this time form the view point of the young mother of the Christ child.  I pray it is a blessings to you.... This is Mary.

How have I come to this place?  I walk through the streets to the well with this baby, my son, toddling behind me and we are shunned.  

These people are family. They were friends. 

As a child I learned to cook, and weave and sew alongside of them.

As a girl I learned to love Yahweh through his word shared to all of us… collectively ….by our mothers, aunts, grandmothers. 

I learned what it meant to be called “betrothed” next to girls who saw what an honest and good man Joseph was. 

But that was long ago. It seems as if a lifetime has passed by, a river of time and a flood of circumstances carving a gorge of separation between us and them.  And now it is because of this amazing, dark eyed, curly haired, chubby cheeked, blessing from God we are rejected.  The very same condition caused them to celebrate with Elizabeth.  You would think that a baby regardless of his beginning would be reason to rejoice.  He causes ME delight!  When I look into his face, I cannot help but fall helplessly into his gaze. It is there that I am reminded of the looming task of raising, teaching, training him to be a good, man, husband, father.  That is what God has asked of me, a mother. 

I am only rudely reminded of our beginning together when the mask of shame is shoved into my hand by these women & men who refuse to acknowledge the omniscience of Yahweh. 

He is THE Lord!

He parted the sea and Israel cross on dry land. 

He rained manna from heaven and fed a nation for 40 years on the bread of his breath. 

He planted His son in my belly before a man ever crossed the threshold of me.  Why? 

Why did he choose me? 

Why can they not believe? 

Why can I not imagine life without Him?

I wear the mask of shame given me but I know, in the deepest places of my soul,   I am not what they claim. 

I am not deserving of the spit that flies,

the accusations that are hurled,

the names they pin to my life or the life of my son. 

So we… knowing & trusting Jehovah Jirah…. endure. 

We take refuge in the arms of a good man, the husband and father the Lord has provide for us. 

I take refuge in the shelter of The Most High God knowing His plan for us is so much greater than ours for ourselves. 

I take refuge in the peace of trusting the Word of God above the words of man.  And this mask is simply an accessory I refuse to embrace. My Lord and my God defines me not this mask. 

I have given Him my life, and His son…. what more could there be?

This is Rahab

It has been a few weeks since my last post.  I MISSED YOU ALL! However, tonight's post is a bit different.  I wrote a monologue from the view point of Rahab, the Harlot.  I based my rendition of her on what is revealed in the Word... and what is not.  THIS IS MERELY A CREATIVE PIECE written for the means of attempting to understand Biblical characters were actual people, with lives beyond the few verses recorded in the Word.  That being said, please feel free to share your ideas with me about Your idea of Rahab. Without further ado...... This is Rahab.

Walking through the street of this city is exhausting.  They think they know me.  But how could they?  Honestly I don’t even think I know myself. 

I am a daughter, a sister, a niece. 

A neighbor, one nobody wants to acknowledge. 

A business owner, an Inn keeper, and yes, a woman. 

But that is different from who they see when I walk through the streets. 

They see a harlot, a whore draped with beautiful clothing purchased with money their officials, their priests, their husbands paid me in the dark of the night. 

And why shouldn’t I wear the dress & jewels I can afford?  I earned it, both the money and their scorn.  At least I am honest about who I am.  Their contempt no longer bothers me.  Their hypocrisy, however, that is a source of the pain.

I wear scarlet not because they don’t know how I am, but to remind them that I am here, a part of their lives.  Regardless of their hatred, I wear scarlet because of them. 

I wasn’t born into this life.  I once was just like them a babe, a toddler, we played together. 

A girl serving her mother alongside of them … but always beautiful and fragile.  Beauty is my curse and it is that beauty which keeps food on the tables of my family.  It has provided for us handsomely, with this house, this place of rest for travelers. And those travelers are willing to pay for the comfort that only comes in the arms of a woman. 

There is something else that comes with exhausted foreigners, information.  I have been educated far greater than those who sit in the seats of authority, because I listen.  The dark and warm place of intimacy frees hearts and lips to share of wonders and amazements from faraway lands.  This is the priceless part of my life.  I have something no one else in this wretched town has and something they all need.  When demand exceeds supply…. the broker can set the price.

As I walked through the streets today hiding behind the mask of a prostitute, I could not shake the feeling of being followed.  But it was bright daylight and no one in this town, man or woman would dare approach me without the cover of night. 

When I entered the safety of my home in the wall of the city, I was able to take down my mask and loosen the scarlet cord and lift my head high to see the sun raining though the walls that had become my prison.  Basking in the rays of the light, I felt as if arms wrapped around me.  Standing there in the sun and I heard my name spoken sweetly, deep within my depths, spoken as I had never heard it before…. But I was alone.

I stood up straighter, the hair standing up on my neck.  What was this… this feeling of peace surrounding me?  Then the words that came filled my senses like nothing I’d ever experienced, “Rahab, you are my beauty…. unmasked beauty.”

“Your … beauty?”   My words were halting and fearful and… and disbelieving as the flood gates of my heart burst open. 

“Yes.”  His words were so pleasant.  So unlike anything I’d ever heard before!  “People see your beauty on the outside,” He said, “but I want what you hold deep within.  Inside is your life source – your soul – that’s what I’m after.  Will you give it to me?”

And as I knelt in the light before Yahweh, the Lord God I had only ever heard about in the dark, my eyes were opened.   Before Him, I saw that I had value.  I was worth something to Him!  He… wanted… me!  He did not want me for what I could give him but for me alone!  My response was a heart bursting with wanting to give Him something.  To give back to Him who found me with a scarlet cord wrapped around my life, hiding behind a mask of shame.  I will find a way to honor Him, for taking my mask….. I have given Him my life but there must be more….

An Apology

Stereotypes.  I hate them.  There is no grace in drawing a line in the sand, no wiggle room in the words "always" and "never." So if you use those words, does that make you a liar or simply someone who is over dramatic? 

Lately, there has been a lot of chatter on my Facebook, anti-religion, anti-conservatism, anti-many areas under which I have been defined.  It has irritated me to some extent, but I have read those posts, reviewed those blogs and looked at those pictures with an open mind, still disagreeing with most.  But one of the things I have learned in life is that others don't think about me as often as I think they do.  In other words, those posts have nothing to do with me personally.  

Here is the challenge, I have come to the place where I realize that many of the posts I have seen lately are not based in fact but rather opinion.  Therefore, I can dispute the posts that I find controversial in an attempt to change minds or I can do nothing.  If I do nothing am I allowing  a grave injustice? I don't think so.  By not commenting I am simply allowing others their own opinions.  They haven't asked for mine, so I don't offer it.  If I do begin to dispute each and every post which breaks my heart, I could easily be type cast as a "Bible-thumping lunatic." 

Here is the thing, many of the posts I have read, while breaking my heart, are actually based in the truth so how can I dispute them?  And that's not anyonelse's problem but mine, ours as Christians, and The Church's as a whole.  You see, when the culture we live in becomes so hostile it is actually able to accuse the entire Church because of the misled actions of a few vocal fringe participants, we all pay the price.  For example, The Westboro Baptist Church is an independent church in Topeka, KS who as of March 2009 claims to have participated in over 41,000 protests in over 650 cities since 1991. Their latest target being Coach Joe Pa's funeral.  But, guess what?  They report their membership at 40 people!  JUST 40!  If I know nothing else, I can assure you of this, those 40 people do NOT know the Jesus I know and that's a problem.  How can I possible tell anyone about my faith in Christ if all they know of Christians is what they see my "brothers & sisters" from Westboro engaged in?

From Jim Jones' purple kool aid, to Marshall Applewhite's Hale-Bopp comet, to David Koresh's  Branch Davidians, there is always someone who pushes the limits of rationality.  But what is even worse are those small justifiable reasons for the things many in the Christian culture hold so dear... don't wear pants, wear skirts,  cover your head, don't cover your head, women can't, men should, don't go to the movies, but play bingo!  

 REALLY?!?

My amazingly talented and intelligent cousin posted this picture on her wall.  And it is funny! 

Because it is true.... sad but true.  When we are not willing to take the time to know and understand what it is that we claim to believe then this is what happens!  The peeps revolt and everyone hates the fig newtons.  (I, for one, like those awful cookies!  They remind me of Gramma Hack. But I digresss.)  We cannot take a stand for something so ridiculous as this, or something so controversial as sexual orientation, or women in leadership, or drinking, or ____________ (fill in the blank) and still properly represent Jesus.  You see, it is not about the issue.  It is about my relationship with Jesus Christ.  Which makes some people stereotype me. 

I had a friend (liberal, democratic, & scientific ~ since we are talking about stereotypes) who posted a link to an article on her wall about the state of Texas wanting to teach the Bible not as a religion but as history.  She made a comment about being in support of it as long as all the other religions we taught as well.  I happen to agree with her and posted it too!  As a follower of Christ, I am not afraid of the Truth, I daily trust, believe in and follow The Truth, personified in the person of Jesus Christ.  Why wouldn't I want others to study? And not only the Bible but other faith books too.  I am confident in what will be discovered.  BRING IT ON!

Danetta showed me a t-shirt she wants.  It simply says,

Jesus > Religion

How much more simple can it be? 

The relationship I have with Jesus changed my life, drastically and forever.  It is not about a list of who I can like, where I can go, or what I can do.  I am an intelligent, college educated woman who strives to put people above issues at all times.  

Therefore, I would like to publicly apologize.   I am sorry if I have ever offended you with my actions because of my faith.  I am also sorry for ALL if those who call themselves Christians who may have offended you with their stupidity and or actions in the name of Christ.  Jesus is not like us.  He is God and we are not.  Some of us know that and others do not. Please pardon me, I am still under construction.  

In love and striving to be in the dust of my Rabbi~

Christy