Daily Bible

So I've been reading my husband's daily bible. I'm now up to January 25, which tells you something (but not everything) about me.

The thing I've noticed this week is that the Old Testament is coming ALIVE for me. Seriously, I have never experienced this before. I used to look out over the dry, dusty deserts of Moses and his stubborn people and yawn. Now though, I find myself reading straight through two or three days worth of Old Testament goodness, thinking the stories are every bit as exciting as the last novel I stayed up way too late for (Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes), and dreaming about the next installment like I dream about my morning cup 'o joe.

So what is the difference between now and the previous decades of my bible-reading life? Maybe this: when I do sit down to read, I've been asking God to spend some time with me, to teach me something, to plant His word in my heart and let it make a difference in me. Maybe the difference is getting excited about His Word, His Wondrous Works, His Person. I don't know for sure, but it's a cool enough phenomenon that I'm going to encourage you to ask Him for a little help in this area. Try it, and let me know what happens.

Taking a lesson from Father Tim

I subbed an easy, breezy half day today--three periods, two of which with the help of another teacher and an aide. I began my day with Father Tim's prayer, "Lord, make me a blessing to someone today," because in regard to subbing it is always wise to take yourself out of the equation.

Subbing is a funny thing. There is nothing quite like a situation in which the person in charge has no clue. Fortunately, I've long mastered the art of faking it, so that's what I do.

The periods with the extra teacher and aide were because the students were part of an inclusion class, where a portion of their population requires extra help. I had some time on my hands during those classes, and as I stood around trying not to look completely extraneous, I noticed a few things.

I noticed that the children (8th graders) were not as well kempt as students in other classes I have taught.
I noticed that very few of them could look me, or each other, in the eye.
I noticed that many of them had nervous habits of some sort.
I noticed one girl in a wheelchair and two boys with their desks permanently placed facing the side wall of the classroom. I noticed that no teacher spoke to them, and that they didn't do any work. I noticed that nobody seemed to care.

I wondered if they felt segregated. They sure looked that way. It was pretty easy for me to imagine these as marginalized children, those who, according to Webster, are in a position of marginal importance, influence, or power.


My heart was sad for them, and it occurred to me that these were the people Jesus sought out while on this earth. He hung out with the poor, the wicked, the hopeless sinners, the sick, the downtrodden. The marginalized.

It was then that I realized I wasn't extraneous. I walked around the classroom and prayed for them. I asked the God Who loves them to cover them with His Son's blood, to save their souls and redeem their lives. I asked for peace, and joy, and success in their endeavors. I asked that they would know Love.

I believe God answers my prayers. I do! I probably won't know just how until I get to Heaven, but man, won't it be great? And what a great lesson--Make me a blessing to someone today.

Rockin' the gear.

I've been thinking of this all week:

The LORD God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them.

Let me get it straight. God created Adam and Eve. He loved them. He actually came down to the garden to hang out with them. (How cool is that?) They disobeyed Him, brazenly, directly, tragically. They actually knew God and still did the one thing He told them not to do. I can't imagine that, although I know in my heart of hearts that if the human race had made it successfully, sinlessly from the dawn of time to 1970, I would have been the one to bring Paradise crashing down.

So I'm imagining how I feel when someone I created (you know) blatantly disobeys me. I'm mad. Depending on the circumstance, I could also be hurt. Bewildered. Indignant. Offended. Aggrieved.

I'm sure not about to go out of my way for this person, who, if he has any sense, will stay out of my line of vision until I've cooled down.

So what does God do?

God, Who created the animals on the sixth day, declared them very good. With my limited imagination I imagine that He, with His infinite capacity for love, loved them all even more than I love Molly. I love Molly a lot.

So what does God do?

He takes his very good creation, and sacrifices it to make clothing for brazenly, directly, tragically sinful man.

Do you know this Love? Grab hold of it today and live like you've been sacrificed for. If you know this Love, that sacrifice has clothed you in righteousness.

I'm rockin' the gear, people. Join me!

I wonder if there is proper blog etiquette for returning after a prolonged absence.

I have no idea, so I'll just jump right in and hope you'll forget that I started this with the intent of writing about my experiences with God, with hopes of honoring Him with my writing. Nothing like putting a little pressure on one's self, eh? Nothing like determining to write (repeatedly) something profound, only to end up with a Gibraltar-sized writer's block. Nothing like making it all about me...

Heh. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's making it all about me.

I just sat here for ten (okay, maybe five) minutes, trying to figure out how to tell you this without making it about me. Can't.Doit.

So. Here is what I am currently learning, courtesy of Beth Moore's Believing God study.

I am learning that it's time to act like I am the daughter of the Creator of the Universe. It's time to grasp hold of and BELIEVE that God has great things for me.

(Please don't think for a second that I'm talking about wealth or material possessions or having hair like Mrs. Osteen. I'm talking about fulfilling the destiny God set out for me before He created the foundations of the earth)

This verse grabbed me (written in regard to the Hebrews wandering aimlessly, pathetically through the desert):

So we see that they were not able to enter [the Promised Land], because of their unbelief. Heb 3:19

It struck me that unbelief is vastly different than disbelief. I don't dis-believe in God, but I do often suffer unbelief in regard to His plans for me, the abilities He has given me, the things He has for me to do with this life. This unbelief is paralyzing. I think I need to say that again. This unbelief is paralyzing. Do you know this feeling?

If you do, please join me. Today I am asking God, like the man in the book of Mark,

"Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!"

Only my request looks more like this:

LORD, I BELIEVE; HELP MY UNBELIEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lessons with Molly

We took Molly, the sweetest dog on earth, to the park today. Poor Molly's family hasn't yet fenced in the backyard, so she's at the mercy of impatient, selfish humans for all of her outdoor time.

The park we like has a huge, fenced-in baseball field where Miss Molly can run free. There is one opening in the fence, and with the five of us paying our very best attention she usually only escapes once. Our routine is to walk around the park until she's taken care of her doggie business, because I'm a mother and I can't stop thinking that one day soon that field will be full of little boys and girls, and...yuck.

The temp was 32 degrees and there was a brisk wind coming off the nearby river when we arrived, appropriately bundled and bearing lacrosse gear, soccer ball and my new Christmas camera. While the boys worked off pent-up energy and testosterone with some made-up sport involving both soccer ball and lacrosse sticks (which, honestly, deteriorated to all-out Smear the Queer within 15 minutes), I played around with the action setting on the camera and kept an eye on my girl.

As you can see, she had a great time.

So what is my point, you ask?

My point is this. I noticed that Molly, although appearing to have the time of her life, would periodically stop at the faaaar back outfield fence, where she would stare longingly at the wide world beyond. It was pathetic, really.

The second or third time she did this it occurred to me how much alike we are.

We have warm and cozy homes, full of loving people and good things to eat. We periodically have wild adventures that would blow the minds of even the most intrepid among you. We lack, really, nothing.

And yet. We are not content. We always want more. It's pathetic, really.

I would like to resolve to be content, as if resolving were doing, and then it would be done. What I will do instead is practice contentment, because practice makes perfect. Right? I'd like you to come along for the ride. I'm asking God to give me brilliant and creative ideas on this topic, which I will then share with you. Maybe you would do the same, and we could practice together.

Heavy Heart

It is with a heavy heart that I write of another marriage in peril. I have a physical ache for this family, torn apart by infidelity. It seems that I hear some version of this story so often that Another One Bites the Dust is playing on a continuous loop in my head. Only in my version the devil is singing it, and he is joyful.

Let me use my aching heart to encourage you to guard your marriage with all due vigilance. Yes, marriage is a place to relax, to let down your guard with the one you love, to be yourself. By all means, let down that guard for your spouse. Please, please don't let it down for the enemy. Don't think for a tiny second that he doesn't have his eye on your marriage.

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.
I Peter 5:8 (NKJ)

Set up safeguards: My husband and I have committed to never be alone in the presence of a member of the opposite sex.

Draw boundaries that cannot be crossed: Never speak ill of your spouse to another. It's such an acceptable thing in our society to criticize our spouses, even jokingly, to our friends. Determine not to do this.

Believe and act on the fact that you are your spouse's biggest fan. If you're not, ask God for ways to become that fan.

Cultivate your relationship: Spend time alone together. Go on dates. Talk. Listen.

Above all: Pray together.