What an exciting day! “Journey” is a reality!! …. The biblical novel I have been working on the for last 8 years is in print, ready for distribution! This morning, we discovered it on amazon.com, as well as several other online sites. I am so thankful for Advantage books, specifically for Mike and Karyn Janiczek; I hope my small offering helps to enlarge their publishing endeavors … Their company really does need to be a household name — like Tyndale, or Word…. I am also so very humbled and thankful for the many friends who donated funds to help make the book a reality — I have learned many lessons this year about the need for community…. What a blessing!
If you would like to see the book, it is available on amazon.com here.
Here is a little more information;
From the back cover –
Everyone loves a story; some we love because they make us laugh; some because they make us cry, touching our pain.
Everyone has a story. Many are untold. Some we remember for opening doors, presenting keys for adventure and discovery.
Some stories are true; some are not. Based on actual events, this story weaves a riveting account; drawing readers in, captivating our attention, making us part of the plot action.
Journey is the historical biography of the life of a young, courageous woman named Mary. Based on more than eight years of painstaking research, the author has drawn from more than fifty sources and a trip to Israel in order to bring actual Biblical events to life. Drawing from the lessons and stories of those she has helped in her counseling practice, the author paints a compelling portrayal of what it meant to live in ancient times.
Here are reviews from some of those who have read the book already… and let me just say in advance, ” thanks for listening….”
“Journey is a good read, with wonderful characterization, and a riveting plot. It makes the times and people come to life. The interesting thing is that the reader finds oneself identifying with the struggles and questions of the people – as though they are us.”(Sharon N.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“When I was reading Debbye’s book, I felt like I had been picked up and placed into the lives of the people who lived in Bible times. As I read, I realized that a lot of women, who have not been nurtured from an early age, feel the things that Mary Magdalene felt. I identified with her feelings. During one scene in particular, I felt the Presence of God draw close to me, bringing personal healing. It was a personal visitation because of the picture painted of Jesus’ ministry. I remember weeping for a long time, and emerging with a sense of healing. At another point during the book, I experienced being strengthened and empowered by the Lord; to accept the freedom to become the woman I was created to become; not afraid of the culture or of other people’s reactions and words.” (Dianne T.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I really enjoyed reading this book. It was a good read, with a good story line. I loved the richness of the culture, customs and history. It was all so interesting and informative!” (Jean R.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This story offers a number of benefits as it weaves history, healing and spiritual truths into its pages. I have gained valuable insight into the way that living a life in Jesus brings healing to the soul. I have been blessed and changed from reading it.” (Jill B.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I love reading stories about real people. Journey made Jesus real to me. Reading this book has helped me to understand God better.”(Carol J.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“To whom it may concern:
“I have had the privilege to read Journey by Debbye Graafsma. I found it to be a compelling read. The following is an attempt to explain why I found this book to be so enjoyable. The first requirement I have when I read fiction, is that I must care about the characters. Debbye achieved this by presenting characters who were believable, who had depth, and to whom the average person can relate.
“She allowed you into their lives, warts and all. By doing so, the reader can identify with the characters and care about what happens to them. Another unique aspect of the book was the fact that the culture and architecture was so accurately and vividly portrayed. The reader could envision walking the streets as they existed in Biblical times.
“The discussion of business transactions was also very interesting. The caravans transporting goods, the purchase of linens and cloth, operation of vineyards, the presence of spas – all provided further insight into how people lived and earned money.
“To me, the most unique aspect of this book was how the common people reacted to Jesus. What they thought of Him; How they reacted to Him. This is evidenced by the description of how Jesus delivered Mary of the demons. This sequence was so vivid and moving that it brought tears to my eyes. Also, Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet with oil and wiping them with her hair was very moving.
“The portrayal of Simon the Pharisee gave me, for the first time, a clear picture of the mindset of the religious leaders at the time of Jesus’ ministry. I have a better understanding of why the religious leaders wanted to crucify Jesus.
“I am confident that Journey will minister to its readers. I believe both male and female readers would enjoy this book. It will minister to whoever reads it.” (Thomas R.)
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
provisioned
In the 1650′s, John Bunyan wrote a book. It was an allegorical novel, said to describe a dream. He titled it “Pilgrim’s Progress.” If you haven’t read it, it’s a great read – although the original version is a little harder to get through; old English and all. When I was about ten or eleven, I had an easy-read version that I read over and over again until the cover wore thin. I loved the symbolism, even as a child. If you haven’t heard of him, John Bunyan was a Reformation preacher who lived in England. During the difficult years of religious upheaval, when for a time it was illegal to even own a page from a Bible, this part-time tinker (repairman/handyman) gathered many together with his teachings about the love of God. He was a man who understood the compassionate side of Abba Father. His daughter, Mary, was blind. I have wondered many times if he wrote his allegory for her. In the years since it’s initial publication, “Pilgrim’s Progress” has sold more copies than any other book ever printed, except for the Bible. So, take my word for it; it’s a good read.
Which brings me to my story. This morning, the Holy Spirit reminded me of an experience I had when I was child, reading this old classic story. As I said, the book is an account of a dream. It describes the story of a man named Christian, who is making a journey from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. Along the way, he meets many who help him, and many more who hinder him. He gains companions; he experiences pain; he loses loved ones; and he finally makes it to his destination. All along the way, he learns and grows, becoming the person he was created to become.
In the middle of his journey, Christian has travelled a long way. Everywhere he goes, he looks for indicators to show him the next step in his journey. He has a map, but sometimes he can’t decipher it well. Continually, he needs others to help him figure it out. But he keeps moving. He comes to a steep hill, and looks upward. Sadly, overwhelmingly, it appears that the road continues up this small mountain; so he sighs and moves forward. He is tired; he is forlorn; he is weary; he is hungry and thirsty; he doesn’t know if he can do it. As he climbs, the mountain becomes steeper than he anticipated. Finally, he has to clamber on his hands and knees just to make headway. It takes all the energies he has in his possession. But now he is committed. He can’t go back. He can’t stop. He must finish this part of the journey.
Soon, he comes to a clearing. He is close to the peak of the mountain. He sees a large house, nestled close to the summit. He thinks “I could get some refreshment there, if they will take me in.” So, he moves on towards the house. But then, as he draws closer, his heart sinks. The pathway to the house is guarded by two large lions, who, although shackled to rock posts with neck irons, look at him with menacing eyes. Fear rises in his heart. He stops in his tracks.
Now what?
Suddenly, a voice speaks from the front door of the house. The Caretaker shouts to him, “Don’t be afraid! They are chained to the posts! Keep to the middle of the path and they won’t be able to reach you!”
With a flash of hope, Christian slowly and carefully moves past the lions, who growl as he passes. He arrives at the front door untouched. He is safe. He breathes a sigh of relief.
“Welcome!” says the Caretaker. “We have been waiting for you.”
Surprised, Christian discovers a Place of Refreshment. He is bathed, and receives medical treatment for his injuries. He is given clean clothing. He eats at a banquet table. He laughs and relaxes in an atmosphere of safety. For several days, he stays. He finds his heart again. He gains direction. He asks questions. He listens. He learns.
Then, on the third morning, the King’s daughters; Faith, Hope and Charity, help him get ready to complete his journey. They clothe him in armor, hand-fit to his person. He is given a sword and a shield. He is provisioned, and given a scroll of promises. For you see, the House on the mountaintop was the King’s House. It was a place of refuge.
In the next chapter of the book, Christian faces the dragon Appollyon, his nemesis; the image of Satan in his own weaknesses. Because of his provisioning, he prevails victorious. He emerges from the battle battered, but wiser; stronger somehow. He would have died in the battle had he not been to the King’s House.
It’s my favorite place in the book. The House of Refreshing.
This morning, the Holy Spirit reminded me of an experience I had during one of my many readings of “Pilgrim’s Progress.” I was ten years old. I had just finished the King’s House chapter, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of the Presence of God. “When I grow up, Jesus, I want my house to be like that. I want people to go away from my house stronger than they came in. I want to help people.”
That hope has remained a center in me for the past forty-three years. When I met Bill, in our many conversations, building relationship, his heart resonated with that focus as well. (It’s wonderful when you marry someone who carries some of your same pages in their own instruction manual for living.) As as result, that same hope has filtered into the way we approach pastoring and leading people. “Let them leave stronger than they came in.”
It has become a personal mission statement for my counseling ministry as well.
All that being said, dear reader, I bring you a request for prayer. My Doll-House Toehead (see blog by the same title), and her mother (see blog titled “Peaches”), move away this weekend. They are on to the next step of rebuilding their lives in the aftermath of abuse, court systems and custody battles. I miss them already…
I sent my toehead away with a jar of Play-Doh… one we played with together…. small offerings. Someday, at journey’s end, we won’t have to go in different directions.
Pray for these two precious souls. Pray for their armor to remain strong; that they lose nothing — and gain everything.
The world is a learning environment. Some life-lessons come harder than others.
We all need safe places of refreshing.
Someday, I want to build a House of Safety for women in such stages of life….. God knows. Pray for our ministry as well.
Blessings.
(c)2010 atg/dcg. No duplication without permission.
Which brings me to my story. This morning, the Holy Spirit reminded me of an experience I had when I was child, reading this old classic story. As I said, the book is an account of a dream. It describes the story of a man named Christian, who is making a journey from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. Along the way, he meets many who help him, and many more who hinder him. He gains companions; he experiences pain; he loses loved ones; and he finally makes it to his destination. All along the way, he learns and grows, becoming the person he was created to become.
In the middle of his journey, Christian has travelled a long way. Everywhere he goes, he looks for indicators to show him the next step in his journey. He has a map, but sometimes he can’t decipher it well. Continually, he needs others to help him figure it out. But he keeps moving. He comes to a steep hill, and looks upward. Sadly, overwhelmingly, it appears that the road continues up this small mountain; so he sighs and moves forward. He is tired; he is forlorn; he is weary; he is hungry and thirsty; he doesn’t know if he can do it. As he climbs, the mountain becomes steeper than he anticipated. Finally, he has to clamber on his hands and knees just to make headway. It takes all the energies he has in his possession. But now he is committed. He can’t go back. He can’t stop. He must finish this part of the journey.
Soon, he comes to a clearing. He is close to the peak of the mountain. He sees a large house, nestled close to the summit. He thinks “I could get some refreshment there, if they will take me in.” So, he moves on towards the house. But then, as he draws closer, his heart sinks. The pathway to the house is guarded by two large lions, who, although shackled to rock posts with neck irons, look at him with menacing eyes. Fear rises in his heart. He stops in his tracks.
Now what?
Suddenly, a voice speaks from the front door of the house. The Caretaker shouts to him, “Don’t be afraid! They are chained to the posts! Keep to the middle of the path and they won’t be able to reach you!”
With a flash of hope, Christian slowly and carefully moves past the lions, who growl as he passes. He arrives at the front door untouched. He is safe. He breathes a sigh of relief.
“Welcome!” says the Caretaker. “We have been waiting for you.”
Surprised, Christian discovers a Place of Refreshment. He is bathed, and receives medical treatment for his injuries. He is given clean clothing. He eats at a banquet table. He laughs and relaxes in an atmosphere of safety. For several days, he stays. He finds his heart again. He gains direction. He asks questions. He listens. He learns.
Then, on the third morning, the King’s daughters; Faith, Hope and Charity, help him get ready to complete his journey. They clothe him in armor, hand-fit to his person. He is given a sword and a shield. He is provisioned, and given a scroll of promises. For you see, the House on the mountaintop was the King’s House. It was a place of refuge.
In the next chapter of the book, Christian faces the dragon Appollyon, his nemesis; the image of Satan in his own weaknesses. Because of his provisioning, he prevails victorious. He emerges from the battle battered, but wiser; stronger somehow. He would have died in the battle had he not been to the King’s House.
It’s my favorite place in the book. The House of Refreshing.
This morning, the Holy Spirit reminded me of an experience I had during one of my many readings of “Pilgrim’s Progress.” I was ten years old. I had just finished the King’s House chapter, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of the Presence of God. “When I grow up, Jesus, I want my house to be like that. I want people to go away from my house stronger than they came in. I want to help people.”
That hope has remained a center in me for the past forty-three years. When I met Bill, in our many conversations, building relationship, his heart resonated with that focus as well. (It’s wonderful when you marry someone who carries some of your same pages in their own instruction manual for living.) As as result, that same hope has filtered into the way we approach pastoring and leading people. “Let them leave stronger than they came in.”
It has become a personal mission statement for my counseling ministry as well.
All that being said, dear reader, I bring you a request for prayer. My Doll-House Toehead (see blog by the same title), and her mother (see blog titled “Peaches”), move away this weekend. They are on to the next step of rebuilding their lives in the aftermath of abuse, court systems and custody battles. I miss them already…
I sent my toehead away with a jar of Play-Doh… one we played with together…. small offerings. Someday, at journey’s end, we won’t have to go in different directions.
Pray for these two precious souls. Pray for their armor to remain strong; that they lose nothing — and gain everything.
The world is a learning environment. Some life-lessons come harder than others.
We all need safe places of refreshing.
Someday, I want to build a House of Safety for women in such stages of life….. God knows. Pray for our ministry as well.
Blessings.
(c)2010 atg/dcg. No duplication without permission.
Monday, June 7, 2010
peaches
At church yesterday, someone was giving away fresh peaches. A large box was placed by the door, filled to the brim with at least a bushel of the yummy fruits. “Our trees are full,” my friend said. “Please, take as many home as you like.” She and her husband had even brought shopping bags for the interested peach-lovers in our congregation.
As people were heading towards their homes, (or lunch out), I noticed treasure collections of peach-filled bags in the hands of many. “Did you get some peaches?” my friend asked those who had forgotten.
“Oh! I forgot!” was the usual reply. “Thanks for bringing these.” Many made plans for their peaches — jam; pies; just peel-n-eat.
I love serving in ministry. Did I tell you that? For the past thirty years, Bill and I have worked together as senior pastors; first in the north, and now in the southeast. We have learned and evolved over the years; relaxing a little somehow. Hopefully we are a little wiser; stronger; more mature; hopefully we are just better. In the process, our marriage has been through storms and summers. As our personal family has grown, so has our ministry style. In fact, the years have solidified lessons about ministry, and my own approach to it.
For my own part, I have decided it is more profitable to live on a learning curve.
I can’t give out what I haven’t received — so I have to stay open. To the Spirit of God, and to other people…
I can’t ask people to do what I am not willing to do myself — so I need to invest myself. Not living with an entitled mindset that “someone else will do it.”
I can’t carry the water of Life to others; in worship, the Word, or even in example, if I am empty. So it is vital that I hear Jesus speak to my heart continually. Manna is good; day-old bread, not-so-much.
Most importantly, ministry is my job. It is not my relationship with Jesus. If and when I confuse the two, trading one for the other, a terrible treadmill is the result; a trap whose lure is success and man’s approval — a tendency towards contemporary trends and relativism. No, Jesus and I must meet and discuss my heart attitudes, the development of my personhood, my discipleship. Jesus and I must meet and explore what it means to be a human being, rather than a human doing. Without that daily meeting with the Spirit of the Living God, I cannot find substance or depth. Nor will I be able to live my days with passion for Him.
My life with God should be about my loving God — not about duty…..
In the early days, Bill and I were sitting in a Denny’s restaurant, studying for exams in our pastoral epistles class. (Thanks, Jim and Jean Hodges!!) We weren’t married yet; or even engaged. We were just study partners. We were talking about I Timothy 3, and what the office of a bishop/pastor would look like. In our conversation, we came to some conclusions. For a minister to have his home “in order,” the instruction was not discussing the portrayal of an image, or a flawlessly spiritual existence. It meant that the God-order of relationships had to rule the minister’s family; that we treat each other well — safely. Without control, manipulation, domination, anger or strife. It meant that we seek to out-serve each other, and seek to enter each other’s world, like Jesus did for His Bride. …
Practically put, I can’t give away what I don’t possess. If I haven’t mined it out for my own life, I can only describe it to others — I can’t take them there.
When family comes before ministry, the result is healthy living. The God-example of the people before the machine comes into play. In my own understanding, this is the conduit God intends when He calls us. He calls us to healing. There is no other way for our lives to become the pipeline Jesus wants us to become.
It means that my relationships within my family, and the life I am living at home, become the avenue through which ministry comes. In priority and principle, it looks like this: #1. Relationships before Tasks; #2. Take the time for the individual; #3. Some tasks will take longer because of #1 and #2.
After thirty years of living our lives in ministry this way, I keep making discoveries of how well I love our church family. And they have become our family; a community of safety; a Safe Haven.
Hopefully, we are bearing good fruit. I realize we won’t really know the end-results of our efforts until the end of days; sometimes, though it’s good to get a glimpse, just to encourage yourself.
“Mommy! Look at the peaches!” My dollhouse-toehead tugged on her mother’s pant leg. “We need some!” (If you want to know who she is, please see the blog entitled “Doll-house Toehead.”)
Her mother and I had been in the midst of a quick conversation. You see, we head to court tomorrow. We are seeking to rescue her from the effects of abuse; to create a safe place for a child who needs to relax in order to heal and grow.
In my heart, I hope we get a judge who listens. I hope we get a miracle for this little girl and her mother…. I hope.
In my heart, I give thanks that healing happens in the midst of community — mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters. Learning what Jesus meant for our lives to look like when He put two “fruit-pickers” in a Eden’s Garden….. sharing the harvest fruit of our lives with one another; growing up into the image of Him, with roots going deep; people of substance and relationship.
Sounds peachy…. (sorry couldn’t resist!) Blessings.
As people were heading towards their homes, (or lunch out), I noticed treasure collections of peach-filled bags in the hands of many. “Did you get some peaches?” my friend asked those who had forgotten.
“Oh! I forgot!” was the usual reply. “Thanks for bringing these.” Many made plans for their peaches — jam; pies; just peel-n-eat.
I love serving in ministry. Did I tell you that? For the past thirty years, Bill and I have worked together as senior pastors; first in the north, and now in the southeast. We have learned and evolved over the years; relaxing a little somehow. Hopefully we are a little wiser; stronger; more mature; hopefully we are just better. In the process, our marriage has been through storms and summers. As our personal family has grown, so has our ministry style. In fact, the years have solidified lessons about ministry, and my own approach to it.
For my own part, I have decided it is more profitable to live on a learning curve.
I can’t give out what I haven’t received — so I have to stay open. To the Spirit of God, and to other people…
I can’t ask people to do what I am not willing to do myself — so I need to invest myself. Not living with an entitled mindset that “someone else will do it.”
I can’t carry the water of Life to others; in worship, the Word, or even in example, if I am empty. So it is vital that I hear Jesus speak to my heart continually. Manna is good; day-old bread, not-so-much.
Most importantly, ministry is my job. It is not my relationship with Jesus. If and when I confuse the two, trading one for the other, a terrible treadmill is the result; a trap whose lure is success and man’s approval — a tendency towards contemporary trends and relativism. No, Jesus and I must meet and discuss my heart attitudes, the development of my personhood, my discipleship. Jesus and I must meet and explore what it means to be a human being, rather than a human doing. Without that daily meeting with the Spirit of the Living God, I cannot find substance or depth. Nor will I be able to live my days with passion for Him.
My life with God should be about my loving God — not about duty…..
In the early days, Bill and I were sitting in a Denny’s restaurant, studying for exams in our pastoral epistles class. (Thanks, Jim and Jean Hodges!!) We weren’t married yet; or even engaged. We were just study partners. We were talking about I Timothy 3, and what the office of a bishop/pastor would look like. In our conversation, we came to some conclusions. For a minister to have his home “in order,” the instruction was not discussing the portrayal of an image, or a flawlessly spiritual existence. It meant that the God-order of relationships had to rule the minister’s family; that we treat each other well — safely. Without control, manipulation, domination, anger or strife. It meant that we seek to out-serve each other, and seek to enter each other’s world, like Jesus did for His Bride. …
Practically put, I can’t give away what I don’t possess. If I haven’t mined it out for my own life, I can only describe it to others — I can’t take them there.
When family comes before ministry, the result is healthy living. The God-example of the people before the machine comes into play. In my own understanding, this is the conduit God intends when He calls us. He calls us to healing. There is no other way for our lives to become the pipeline Jesus wants us to become.
It means that my relationships within my family, and the life I am living at home, become the avenue through which ministry comes. In priority and principle, it looks like this: #1. Relationships before Tasks; #2. Take the time for the individual; #3. Some tasks will take longer because of #1 and #2.
After thirty years of living our lives in ministry this way, I keep making discoveries of how well I love our church family. And they have become our family; a community of safety; a Safe Haven.
Hopefully, we are bearing good fruit. I realize we won’t really know the end-results of our efforts until the end of days; sometimes, though it’s good to get a glimpse, just to encourage yourself.
“Mommy! Look at the peaches!” My dollhouse-toehead tugged on her mother’s pant leg. “We need some!” (If you want to know who she is, please see the blog entitled “Doll-house Toehead.”)
Her mother and I had been in the midst of a quick conversation. You see, we head to court tomorrow. We are seeking to rescue her from the effects of abuse; to create a safe place for a child who needs to relax in order to heal and grow.
In my heart, I hope we get a judge who listens. I hope we get a miracle for this little girl and her mother…. I hope.
In my heart, I give thanks that healing happens in the midst of community — mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters. Learning what Jesus meant for our lives to look like when He put two “fruit-pickers” in a Eden’s Garden….. sharing the harvest fruit of our lives with one another; growing up into the image of Him, with roots going deep; people of substance and relationship.
Sounds peachy…. (sorry couldn’t resist!) Blessings.
Monday, May 24, 2010
bandits
“We caught him!”
I looked up from my laptop, to see my husband’s face shining with excitement. “Come out and see him!”
So, we walked out to the yard, where, under the trees in a “have-a-heart” trap, was a large, full-grown, vanquished, male raccoon. It looked up with pleading eyes, frozen in place, watching us as we assessed him. Now, before I go on with the story, I must give you a little history.
Context is everything…
Three weeks ago, Bill set the trap. He used a full can of sardines as bait. We had tried everything else. In the morning, the trap had yielded a neighborhood cat. Disappointed, we let the pitiful little thing go to its home, feeling guilty for setting the trap in the first place. The next night, the same, brand new trap had almost given its life as an offering towards the quest… Wonderfully, the raccoon had found the trap, and taken the sardines. But, in the process, the not-so-little bandit had all but destroyed our trap. It lay in bent and battered pieces the next morning, a tribute to the raccoon’s cunning. In response, and, as a tribute to his own tenacity, my husband wired it back together with bailing wire, reinforcing the trap door. “There!” he declared. “The little jerk won’t do that again!”
Why this raccoon? Why this focus of energy?
Well, it all began several years ago. It has become a quest; a mission; a passion, if you will. Like a knight in search of a grail, my husband has discovered a priority. The raccoons are the enemy from hell; similar to St. George’s dragon, you see. For the protection of our home, they must go….. The quest has enveloped each of our family members in one way or another, at one time or another. In the course of his quest, we have discovered all sorts of theories, and falsehoods about how to deal with the little breed.
It all started when our oldest daughter, Rachel, came home from college one year. We had known there were gaps around the dormers on our roof needing to be repaired; filled in. But, when you are refurbishing a church campus, limited in finances, and working, there is only so much energy to go around. So, understandably, the dormers had waited.
After unpacking her suitcases, Rachel, then 21, pulled the hinged stairway down that leads to our attic. Her attempted task was to put her bags away. After extending the stepladder, she began the short climb, looking upwards, then down. She reached down to gather her empty suitcase from the floor, readying herself to swing the bag up into the open access. In her peripheral vision, she saw a movement. She almost fell off the ladder with a stifled scream. She looked again towards the access.
A rather large raccoon was standing on its haunches, front feet up, teeth bared. It was hissing and growling. Apparently, she had invaded its home.
Its home? I had thought it was our home….
Rachel came running downstairs. So startled was she, that she forgot to close the access stairs. “Mom! Dad! Did you know there are raccoons in the attic?” “Mom! How did they get in there?” Thankfully, the raccoon “king” was satisfied that he had defended his domain and had not ventured down the stairway…
Did you ever discover something that suddenly needed attention? A lot of attention? Unknown to anyone living in our home, elements of destruction had been working for a long time. Repairs were extensive and time-consuming; requiring strategy. They were expensive.
It was like the painful discovery of a blindspot; like seeing a need for change.
Upon inspection, Bill discovered a family of raccoons in the attic. How long they had been there, we couldn’t tell. But they had certainly created themselves an environment. They loved it there..
But so did we….
In the process of getting rid of the ones in the attic, a few got away…..causing us to begin a journey. Over the past six years, we have caught and relocated many raccoons; all of which have come from this one little attic family. (We have also worked to repair the roof….) And, as far as we know, the male Bill caught this morning was the last of them.
As I stood, considering the little imp in the trap today, I found the inevitable words coming out of my female mouth. “But, he’s so cute, honey! Look at him! The poor thing! How long has he been in there?”
My husband looked at me in disbelief, his mouth open. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s just hard to believe this is the one.”
Bill put his arm around me. “He’s the one.”
In my heart I know he is right. The long list of repairs we have done because of this particular raccoon came to my mind. He has broken the glass in the birdfeeders, and bent the metal suet feeders, rendering them almost unusable. He has chugged full hummingbird feeders, leaving them empty, with trails behind him. He has chewed. He has dug. He has destroyed the finch feeders, requiring their replacement.
And he is done. So am I. Looking at him, I realized my personal need to face the facts. He might be cute, but he was destructive. He might be cowering now, but he had wreaked havoc with his siblings in our home. As a whole, the raccoon race had cost us hundreds of dollars. My battle? I found myself wanting Bill to let him go because I momentarily felt sorry for him. If we did let him go into the neighborhood once again, our frustrations would continue, and the quest would return…
For that moment, the raccoon was full of regret — of his appetite for sardines, and his destructive patterns.
For that moment, I felt guilty — for impeding his processes, for his capture, for his impending relocation.
But regret and guilt don’t make changes. Repentance does. Strategies and Intentional Action make changes. Feelings don’t dictate growth. Character dictates growth.
Context is everything…
It is sad, but I have met many people who are stuck in the perpetual cycles of guilt and regret…. allowing a quest to be revisited because they hope a quick apology will undo years of bad behavior. They wrongly believe it is their responsibility to maintain the happiness of those they love who carry destructive behaviors…..
King Solomon said “is is the little foxes that spoil the vines.” And he was right.
Beware of the masked bandits…..
Blessings!
(C)2010 DG Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
I looked up from my laptop, to see my husband’s face shining with excitement. “Come out and see him!”
So, we walked out to the yard, where, under the trees in a “have-a-heart” trap, was a large, full-grown, vanquished, male raccoon. It looked up with pleading eyes, frozen in place, watching us as we assessed him. Now, before I go on with the story, I must give you a little history.
Context is everything…
Three weeks ago, Bill set the trap. He used a full can of sardines as bait. We had tried everything else. In the morning, the trap had yielded a neighborhood cat. Disappointed, we let the pitiful little thing go to its home, feeling guilty for setting the trap in the first place. The next night, the same, brand new trap had almost given its life as an offering towards the quest… Wonderfully, the raccoon had found the trap, and taken the sardines. But, in the process, the not-so-little bandit had all but destroyed our trap. It lay in bent and battered pieces the next morning, a tribute to the raccoon’s cunning. In response, and, as a tribute to his own tenacity, my husband wired it back together with bailing wire, reinforcing the trap door. “There!” he declared. “The little jerk won’t do that again!”
Why this raccoon? Why this focus of energy?
Well, it all began several years ago. It has become a quest; a mission; a passion, if you will. Like a knight in search of a grail, my husband has discovered a priority. The raccoons are the enemy from hell; similar to St. George’s dragon, you see. For the protection of our home, they must go….. The quest has enveloped each of our family members in one way or another, at one time or another. In the course of his quest, we have discovered all sorts of theories, and falsehoods about how to deal with the little breed.
It all started when our oldest daughter, Rachel, came home from college one year. We had known there were gaps around the dormers on our roof needing to be repaired; filled in. But, when you are refurbishing a church campus, limited in finances, and working, there is only so much energy to go around. So, understandably, the dormers had waited.
After unpacking her suitcases, Rachel, then 21, pulled the hinged stairway down that leads to our attic. Her attempted task was to put her bags away. After extending the stepladder, she began the short climb, looking upwards, then down. She reached down to gather her empty suitcase from the floor, readying herself to swing the bag up into the open access. In her peripheral vision, she saw a movement. She almost fell off the ladder with a stifled scream. She looked again towards the access.
A rather large raccoon was standing on its haunches, front feet up, teeth bared. It was hissing and growling. Apparently, she had invaded its home.
Its home? I had thought it was our home….
Rachel came running downstairs. So startled was she, that she forgot to close the access stairs. “Mom! Dad! Did you know there are raccoons in the attic?” “Mom! How did they get in there?” Thankfully, the raccoon “king” was satisfied that he had defended his domain and had not ventured down the stairway…
Did you ever discover something that suddenly needed attention? A lot of attention? Unknown to anyone living in our home, elements of destruction had been working for a long time. Repairs were extensive and time-consuming; requiring strategy. They were expensive.
It was like the painful discovery of a blindspot; like seeing a need for change.
Upon inspection, Bill discovered a family of raccoons in the attic. How long they had been there, we couldn’t tell. But they had certainly created themselves an environment. They loved it there..
But so did we….
In the process of getting rid of the ones in the attic, a few got away…..causing us to begin a journey. Over the past six years, we have caught and relocated many raccoons; all of which have come from this one little attic family. (We have also worked to repair the roof….) And, as far as we know, the male Bill caught this morning was the last of them.
As I stood, considering the little imp in the trap today, I found the inevitable words coming out of my female mouth. “But, he’s so cute, honey! Look at him! The poor thing! How long has he been in there?”
My husband looked at me in disbelief, his mouth open. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s just hard to believe this is the one.”
Bill put his arm around me. “He’s the one.”
In my heart I know he is right. The long list of repairs we have done because of this particular raccoon came to my mind. He has broken the glass in the birdfeeders, and bent the metal suet feeders, rendering them almost unusable. He has chugged full hummingbird feeders, leaving them empty, with trails behind him. He has chewed. He has dug. He has destroyed the finch feeders, requiring their replacement.
And he is done. So am I. Looking at him, I realized my personal need to face the facts. He might be cute, but he was destructive. He might be cowering now, but he had wreaked havoc with his siblings in our home. As a whole, the raccoon race had cost us hundreds of dollars. My battle? I found myself wanting Bill to let him go because I momentarily felt sorry for him. If we did let him go into the neighborhood once again, our frustrations would continue, and the quest would return…
For that moment, the raccoon was full of regret — of his appetite for sardines, and his destructive patterns.
For that moment, I felt guilty — for impeding his processes, for his capture, for his impending relocation.
But regret and guilt don’t make changes. Repentance does. Strategies and Intentional Action make changes. Feelings don’t dictate growth. Character dictates growth.
Context is everything…
It is sad, but I have met many people who are stuck in the perpetual cycles of guilt and regret…. allowing a quest to be revisited because they hope a quick apology will undo years of bad behavior. They wrongly believe it is their responsibility to maintain the happiness of those they love who carry destructive behaviors…..
King Solomon said “is is the little foxes that spoil the vines.” And he was right.
Beware of the masked bandits…..
Blessings!
(C)2010 DG Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
knowing
We don’t know what we don’t know…..
When we realize we don’t know, most of the time we don’t possess the correct questions to help us begin to know what we need to know….. (now stay with me..)
And, most of the time, we only discover what we don’t know after we have made mistakes, and wish we could fix them.
It’s so true, isn’t it?……
Each month, through our ministry at Awakened to Grow, I teach workshops for personal growth and development. This morning, the subject was “Parenting: How to Discover and Develop Gifts in your Child.” For three hours, we discussed personalities, parenting styles, bonding gaps, learning styles, and the process of connecting with children on a heart-level. I was particularly touched by one participant who came. She is a single gal, who came not because she has children of her own, but because she is a teacher who wants to help her more emotionally disconnected students.
Why, you might ask….
Because emotionally disconnected students don’t really learn or absorb. They just memorize facts, and forget them later on. This woman knows instinctively knows that if she can get her students to connect with her as the teacher, they will learn.
When our children were smaller, I mistakenly thought that a more structured and somewhat rigid environment would help them to become better students. I scheduled, made task-lists, and sometimes over-organized our home-schooling/learning environment. It didn’t work. Wow, that’s an understatement. It really, really didn’t work.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
When I discovered that I didn’t know, I realized that I had no idea what questions I should ask in order to learn a different pathway.
It is the same way in emotional development, which, by the way is necessary for both genders. When we count the male gender out of the process during boyhood, we damage their souls. He stunt them as men; turning them angry and violent.
We hinder them from hearing the Spirit of God as adult men.
Emotional development does not track with the growth of our physical bodies. In his research on the levels of moral development at Harvard, Lawrence Kohlberg divided the steps of emotional/moral development into five stages. Level 1 is infantile, unaware and out of touch. Level 5 is fully invested, and able to invest in others unselfishly on a consistent basis. Sadly, even as adults, more than 90% of the world’s population does not move past level 3.
So what prevents us from growing?
Here is the the first key: Unless a person intentionally addresses an area of relational living; assessing, addressing, and changing it; they will not, they cannot grow. They might try to imitate a behavior, or keep a rule in order to save a relationship — but they will not be able to make real steps towards adult living. For example, if a man has had a difficult childhood, say, where he could not relate to his mother; that man will find it difficult to relate to women in his adult life in a healthy manner. He will also find it difficult to relate to his daughters. He won’t be a good communicator. He might be unfaithful, or even cold and unfeeling.
If he has sons, his manner of relating is passed on; imitated and followed, many times for generations…
Here is the second key: Emotional development does not happen in seclusion or isolation. It happens in community — We were created for relationship — Therefore, we need it in order to be happy, healthy and whole.
This kind of growth many times cannot happen unless hidden wounds are addressed in a person’s life. And please, for those of you who have been in Christian circles for a long time, please understand that it doesn’t happen quickly, or overnight. It is a journey, with one step following another; happening incrementally, and intentionally.
The first lesson we learn in emotional development, is that we must be willing to be honest; assessing where we live without fear, blame, guilt, shame or denial.
The second lesson is more difficult. Choosing to trust a safe person; asking them to give us a new set of questions to ask about our lives.
For more, let me recommend a great read. “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality,” by Pete Scazzaro.
To close, let me say this:
My friend, Mike likes to post funny things on his Facebook page. Today, his quote came up, “God has already figured your stupidity into His plan.” At first, I laughed, and then, thought, “It’s a good thing!” You know, if God had to wait for me to “get it” every time, my life would have more delays than an airport….. He is the only One who knows all the things we don’t know…..
Blessings!!
(c)2010 DG Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
When we realize we don’t know, most of the time we don’t possess the correct questions to help us begin to know what we need to know….. (now stay with me..)
And, most of the time, we only discover what we don’t know after we have made mistakes, and wish we could fix them.
It’s so true, isn’t it?……
Each month, through our ministry at Awakened to Grow, I teach workshops for personal growth and development. This morning, the subject was “Parenting: How to Discover and Develop Gifts in your Child.” For three hours, we discussed personalities, parenting styles, bonding gaps, learning styles, and the process of connecting with children on a heart-level. I was particularly touched by one participant who came. She is a single gal, who came not because she has children of her own, but because she is a teacher who wants to help her more emotionally disconnected students.
Why, you might ask….
Because emotionally disconnected students don’t really learn or absorb. They just memorize facts, and forget them later on. This woman knows instinctively knows that if she can get her students to connect with her as the teacher, they will learn.
When our children were smaller, I mistakenly thought that a more structured and somewhat rigid environment would help them to become better students. I scheduled, made task-lists, and sometimes over-organized our home-schooling/learning environment. It didn’t work. Wow, that’s an understatement. It really, really didn’t work.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
When I discovered that I didn’t know, I realized that I had no idea what questions I should ask in order to learn a different pathway.
It is the same way in emotional development, which, by the way is necessary for both genders. When we count the male gender out of the process during boyhood, we damage their souls. He stunt them as men; turning them angry and violent.
We hinder them from hearing the Spirit of God as adult men.
Emotional development does not track with the growth of our physical bodies. In his research on the levels of moral development at Harvard, Lawrence Kohlberg divided the steps of emotional/moral development into five stages. Level 1 is infantile, unaware and out of touch. Level 5 is fully invested, and able to invest in others unselfishly on a consistent basis. Sadly, even as adults, more than 90% of the world’s population does not move past level 3.
So what prevents us from growing?
Here is the the first key: Unless a person intentionally addresses an area of relational living; assessing, addressing, and changing it; they will not, they cannot grow. They might try to imitate a behavior, or keep a rule in order to save a relationship — but they will not be able to make real steps towards adult living. For example, if a man has had a difficult childhood, say, where he could not relate to his mother; that man will find it difficult to relate to women in his adult life in a healthy manner. He will also find it difficult to relate to his daughters. He won’t be a good communicator. He might be unfaithful, or even cold and unfeeling.
If he has sons, his manner of relating is passed on; imitated and followed, many times for generations…
Here is the second key: Emotional development does not happen in seclusion or isolation. It happens in community — We were created for relationship — Therefore, we need it in order to be happy, healthy and whole.
This kind of growth many times cannot happen unless hidden wounds are addressed in a person’s life. And please, for those of you who have been in Christian circles for a long time, please understand that it doesn’t happen quickly, or overnight. It is a journey, with one step following another; happening incrementally, and intentionally.
The first lesson we learn in emotional development, is that we must be willing to be honest; assessing where we live without fear, blame, guilt, shame or denial.
The second lesson is more difficult. Choosing to trust a safe person; asking them to give us a new set of questions to ask about our lives.
For more, let me recommend a great read. “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality,” by Pete Scazzaro.
To close, let me say this:
My friend, Mike likes to post funny things on his Facebook page. Today, his quote came up, “God has already figured your stupidity into His plan.” At first, I laughed, and then, thought, “It’s a good thing!” You know, if God had to wait for me to “get it” every time, my life would have more delays than an airport….. He is the only One who knows all the things we don’t know…..
Blessings!!
(c)2010 DG Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
on empathy
He sat across from me in my office, silent. His hands were fidgeting as he continued to look down and shifted in his chair. Was he contemplating the non-existent pattern in the carpet? Had he heard me, I wondered?
Almost a complete minute of silence had passed since I had asked him the question. Apparently, it had provoked a deep introspection. We had been discussing the value of communicating thoughts and emotions in his relationships. As his griefs had surfaced over the past season, so had a deep confusion over his identity. For this man, it had always been easier to logically assess a situation, plan a practical task, and move forward, ignoring the effects of his words and actions on those around him.
Relationally, he was oblivious. Until lately.
Now, in the midst of the cost of his marriage, his Inner Life was waking up. My question had been a simple one: “If you were your wife, what would you think or feel about you?”
I have learned over the years, to allow my clients time to think through their answers, and wait for responses. But, as the silence wore on in this particular session, I began to realize we were on unknown ground for this particular gentleman.
I broke into his reverie. “Are you having trouble?” I asked.
“She told me before she left,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to listen, I guess.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me that I didn’t want her.” He stopped. “Why would she say that? We never talked about this stuff. Where would she get that idea?”
And there it was. After years of ignoring his wife; expecting her to take care of him without verbal or relational connection; leaving the care of the children and the home completely in her hands; acknowledging her only in public… this client was surprised at his wife’s apparently inconceivable decision to leave. Hadn’t he been a provider, he reasoned? That should be enough. After all, he was the man, he said.
“What do you think you would think or feel?” I repeated the question.
“I guess I would feel lonely,” he sighed a response. “I just didn’t know I was supposed to care about those things. It never occurred to me how she might feel. I mean, she took care of everything. I really thought she was happy. In control, you know…..”
“Did she ever tell you she was unhappy?”
He shifted in his chair again. “Well, a couple of times when we had fights. I would bring something to her attention, and she would burst into tears and ‘go off.’ You know, hormonal.”
“What does that mean: ‘you would bring something to her attention?’”
“Like something she needed to change — about herself; or about the house, or how she was handling something with the kids.”
“Did you help her?”
“I didn’t have time to do that. I was working.”
“Were you critical of her?”
“Probably, but only to help her.” He looked at me. “Isn’t the wife supposed to take care of the husband? Isn’t that her Biblical reponsibility?”
At that point, I called him by name. “Do you realize that when you try to change your wife in that way, you are telling her that you don’t really want her as your companion? What she hears is that you want someone else who will act and respond in a different way, and be a different person than she is. You are telling her that you don’t want her. Not only that, but when that is the only communication she is receiving, it is doubly damaging.”
He looked at me, dumbfounded; his mouth and eyes wide open, like a deer in the middle of a road facing bright headlights.
“Not only that,” I continued. “But as to Biblical responsibilities, the Word has much more to say about the man’s responsibility to care and nurture his wife than it does about the woman’s role.”
“For real?” he asked.
Being female, it amazed me that he hadn’t known this. This man, although he loved his wife dearly, had been content to live and function on a facts level only, ignoring his family, making demands. In contrast, his wife had been living in emotional starvation since their days of courtship. Then, through the years of marriage, this husband had mistakenly assumed that because he could explain away her complaints and emotions as “not being logical,” they didn’t matter. If he could discount them, and find an alternate perception, it became his habit to expect her to consistently adjust and make personal changes.
This man had expected his viewpoint to determine Acceptable Truth. Apparently, there had been no alternatives; no team; no unity. He felt it was his God-given privilege.
Since that meeting several years ago, I have encountered many in our culture with the same issues; many marriages with the same struggle. Sadly, in my own experience, situations like this one are even more prevalent within the mindset of the Christian church, than in the secular environment.
God’s original design for marriage is that each partner seek to outserve the other one; not one-sided or demanding. The husband submits his life to Jesus, and loves his wife without condition, laying his life down for her. The wife responds by submitting her life to Jesus, and honoring his intentional choice to serve. Together they are a team, seeking to build each other up — without asserting rights, choosing to learn how to grow together, living their growth honestly and vulnerably in front of their children and the rest of humanity. This is the way of the Kingdom.
When we come to Christ, he calls us to forsake the desire to put ourselves first. We become disciples — learners. We choose to serve. A marriage doesn’t work when one partner does more serving than the other — because it isn’t God’s plan. Such a relationship becomes selfish. The non-communicative partner becomes the center of the orbit; with everyone seeking to gain their approval…… this is narcissism. Sadly, it lives in the American Church as well; in marriages that would like the label “Christian.” But Christianity is about what Jesus would do — not about our rights, our feelings, or our comfort.
We are not called to rule each other — we are called to serve each other. We are called to empathy.
I have had the exhausting joy of helping many broken and abused women over the years in rebuilding some semblance of their lives. I still find myself getting angry when legalistic dogmatics contend for some sort of “scriptural” selfishness and entrapment when it comes to abuse in Christian marriages. In a day when our American culture has become increasingly self-focused, self-centered, and self-absorbed, there is a desperate need for more than surface answers in our homes and families.
It is time for a house-cleaning from the attributes of Denial, Entitlement and Religiosity.
It is time for Honesty, Healing and Growth.
If you are in a relationship like the one described here, let me encourage you to seek help. Find a good, solid, Christian counselor who won’t offer platitudes; but will speak real solution. God’s plan for marriage is that it reflect the relationship Jesus has with His Bride – Honest, Safe, Secure, Loving and filled with Grace. Within the context of Reality; it means growing, learning and communicating; allowing your spouse to know your entire life, with nothing held back — ever.
I’m glad to say that in that particular appointment years ago the husband began a process in working, hard, I might add, to win his wife’s heart back. What took many years to destroy, God rebuilt in a season of months — in fact, I spoke with him not long ago, and he said, “Thanks. We’re still learning– every day!”
Aren’t we all? (Thank God!)
Welcome to Discipleship 101.
(c)2010 DG Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Almost a complete minute of silence had passed since I had asked him the question. Apparently, it had provoked a deep introspection. We had been discussing the value of communicating thoughts and emotions in his relationships. As his griefs had surfaced over the past season, so had a deep confusion over his identity. For this man, it had always been easier to logically assess a situation, plan a practical task, and move forward, ignoring the effects of his words and actions on those around him.
Relationally, he was oblivious. Until lately.
Now, in the midst of the cost of his marriage, his Inner Life was waking up. My question had been a simple one: “If you were your wife, what would you think or feel about you?”
I have learned over the years, to allow my clients time to think through their answers, and wait for responses. But, as the silence wore on in this particular session, I began to realize we were on unknown ground for this particular gentleman.
I broke into his reverie. “Are you having trouble?” I asked.
“She told me before she left,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to listen, I guess.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me that I didn’t want her.” He stopped. “Why would she say that? We never talked about this stuff. Where would she get that idea?”
And there it was. After years of ignoring his wife; expecting her to take care of him without verbal or relational connection; leaving the care of the children and the home completely in her hands; acknowledging her only in public… this client was surprised at his wife’s apparently inconceivable decision to leave. Hadn’t he been a provider, he reasoned? That should be enough. After all, he was the man, he said.
“What do you think you would think or feel?” I repeated the question.
“I guess I would feel lonely,” he sighed a response. “I just didn’t know I was supposed to care about those things. It never occurred to me how she might feel. I mean, she took care of everything. I really thought she was happy. In control, you know…..”
“Did she ever tell you she was unhappy?”
He shifted in his chair again. “Well, a couple of times when we had fights. I would bring something to her attention, and she would burst into tears and ‘go off.’ You know, hormonal.”
“What does that mean: ‘you would bring something to her attention?’”
“Like something she needed to change — about herself; or about the house, or how she was handling something with the kids.”
“Did you help her?”
“I didn’t have time to do that. I was working.”
“Were you critical of her?”
“Probably, but only to help her.” He looked at me. “Isn’t the wife supposed to take care of the husband? Isn’t that her Biblical reponsibility?”
At that point, I called him by name. “Do you realize that when you try to change your wife in that way, you are telling her that you don’t really want her as your companion? What she hears is that you want someone else who will act and respond in a different way, and be a different person than she is. You are telling her that you don’t want her. Not only that, but when that is the only communication she is receiving, it is doubly damaging.”
He looked at me, dumbfounded; his mouth and eyes wide open, like a deer in the middle of a road facing bright headlights.
“Not only that,” I continued. “But as to Biblical responsibilities, the Word has much more to say about the man’s responsibility to care and nurture his wife than it does about the woman’s role.”
“For real?” he asked.
Being female, it amazed me that he hadn’t known this. This man, although he loved his wife dearly, had been content to live and function on a facts level only, ignoring his family, making demands. In contrast, his wife had been living in emotional starvation since their days of courtship. Then, through the years of marriage, this husband had mistakenly assumed that because he could explain away her complaints and emotions as “not being logical,” they didn’t matter. If he could discount them, and find an alternate perception, it became his habit to expect her to consistently adjust and make personal changes.
This man had expected his viewpoint to determine Acceptable Truth. Apparently, there had been no alternatives; no team; no unity. He felt it was his God-given privilege.
Since that meeting several years ago, I have encountered many in our culture with the same issues; many marriages with the same struggle. Sadly, in my own experience, situations like this one are even more prevalent within the mindset of the Christian church, than in the secular environment.
God’s original design for marriage is that each partner seek to outserve the other one; not one-sided or demanding. The husband submits his life to Jesus, and loves his wife without condition, laying his life down for her. The wife responds by submitting her life to Jesus, and honoring his intentional choice to serve. Together they are a team, seeking to build each other up — without asserting rights, choosing to learn how to grow together, living their growth honestly and vulnerably in front of their children and the rest of humanity. This is the way of the Kingdom.
When we come to Christ, he calls us to forsake the desire to put ourselves first. We become disciples — learners. We choose to serve. A marriage doesn’t work when one partner does more serving than the other — because it isn’t God’s plan. Such a relationship becomes selfish. The non-communicative partner becomes the center of the orbit; with everyone seeking to gain their approval…… this is narcissism. Sadly, it lives in the American Church as well; in marriages that would like the label “Christian.” But Christianity is about what Jesus would do — not about our rights, our feelings, or our comfort.
We are not called to rule each other — we are called to serve each other. We are called to empathy.
I have had the exhausting joy of helping many broken and abused women over the years in rebuilding some semblance of their lives. I still find myself getting angry when legalistic dogmatics contend for some sort of “scriptural” selfishness and entrapment when it comes to abuse in Christian marriages. In a day when our American culture has become increasingly self-focused, self-centered, and self-absorbed, there is a desperate need for more than surface answers in our homes and families.
It is time for a house-cleaning from the attributes of Denial, Entitlement and Religiosity.
It is time for Honesty, Healing and Growth.
If you are in a relationship like the one described here, let me encourage you to seek help. Find a good, solid, Christian counselor who won’t offer platitudes; but will speak real solution. God’s plan for marriage is that it reflect the relationship Jesus has with His Bride – Honest, Safe, Secure, Loving and filled with Grace. Within the context of Reality; it means growing, learning and communicating; allowing your spouse to know your entire life, with nothing held back — ever.
I’m glad to say that in that particular appointment years ago the husband began a process in working, hard, I might add, to win his wife’s heart back. What took many years to destroy, God rebuilt in a season of months — in fact, I spoke with him not long ago, and he said, “Thanks. We’re still learning– every day!”
Aren’t we all? (Thank God!)
Welcome to Discipleship 101.
(c)2010 DG Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
on wearing a lion's mane
Personality is a wonderful thing! It provides us with variety, and keeps the spark in our relationships. How boring life would be if every tree in the orchard were an apple tree! How tedious our days would be, if everyone were the same. Our lives would be like those "built overnight" neighborhoods, where all the houses look the same; like they were designed with a cookie-cutter! It is the differences that keep us discovering -- and I for one, need the differening personalities to keep me on a growth pattern!
Now, if you aren't familiar with personality profiles, let me help here by explaining a little. I have to set the story up for you -- because this week, I made a discovery of my own.
Personality profiling is used all over the workplace these days, to help corporations learn about team dynamics. Profiling tools are used to help workers discover what needs adjustment in their working relationships. Some Human Resource departments use profiling tools, to learn whether an applicant desiring a job would really be a "fit" for that particular job. Police departments create profiles in order to catch criminals.... it's fascinating stuff. And uncannyingly accurate!
Simply put: there are four basic personality types. Everyone on the planet carries all four, in varying degrees. And, while some people are similar, each combination is unique; mixing with our individual learning styles, our level of emotional development, etc., to define our personality; our Personhood. Additionally, most of us utilize different forms of ourselves depending upon the pressures of the environment we find ourselves in.... Short version; one of the main keys to healthy living is choosing to do whatever it takes to heal and grow-- The end goal is to become consistently stable, in holding to the same personality in every environment. This is called "congruency"... although no one comes to it quickly ... or perfectly.
Understand here, I am talking about Emotional Quotient (which involves inner life; feelings, principles, values and morals) -- as opposed to Intelligence Quotient (which involves outer life; facts, cliches, status and task). Relationships are part of the EQ of life -- When relationships are run in IQ, they fail every time....
But EQ is hard to grasp; it's like learning a new language, especially if inner life wasn't addressed in bonding years. EQ is intangible and relationship based -- most of us need help to "get it." On the other hand, IQ is easier to get hold of, because it is task oriented and has to to with the tangibles -- "just the facts, please." As a result, the majority of us live our lives in the IQ levels, avoiding the pain of digging into the EQ, for as long as we can possibly get away with it....
Personality types vary in degrees. To put it simply -- here are the four styles -- 1. The Driver; the lion, or choleric... 2. The Inspirer; the otter, or sanguine.... 3. The Steady; the golden retriever, or phlegmatic..... 4. The Conscientous; the beaver, or melancholic.....
After years of behavioral analysis, mediating conflicts, helping couples decipher "missed moments," I made a discovery of my own this week. You know, the "aha" moment, the "synapses" -- when the left and right brain connect, and you wonder why you didn't "see it' before....
My husband is a "lion" -- by that I mean his personality type. He is one of those energetic, determined leader-guys, who enjoys being out in front forging a path. He could cut a path through the jungle with a machete, and not mind the challenges of being the first to get there. His secondary personality type is the "otter." You know the type; always telling jokes; drawing people in with his stories. When it comes to his learning style, he has this mind that never forgets a name. It has to be a gift. I say that because I have a hard time with names. I remember faces, and then my mind runs through the alphabet -- "Was it an A name? B?"
At one point, I thought I could improve my mind-remembering skill-level; I didn't realize the problem was part of my genetics. Because my relationships with people are important to me, I tried a course in memory-association. This particular course was excellent -- the problem was the student.... Here was the proposed process: Think of a picture that reminds you of the item (or person) you want to remember. Give the picture a name that relates to their name, or a feature of their person. Well, the course promises that the next time you see the person, you will remember the association, etc. Hence, success.
I must have been missing that day -- that part of my IQ level wasn't developed yet..... A lady came to visit us. In the midst of a sea of faces, I learned her name; "Mrs. Stack." She was a a rather large woman, with short, blonde, straight hair. So, in my mind, for some reason, I pictured a haystack. Go figure. Did it work, you ask? Well, the next time I saw her, the part of recalling the image worked. The yellow haystack showed up in my mind; but so did self-doubt. I called her "Mrs. Needle."
You're smiling. I can't help it. My mind just goes blank.
My husband is a lion. Like Aslan, in the Chronicles of Narnia, he isn't a tame lion, but he's kind....
Me? I'm a "golden retriever," with a little "beaver" thrown in for good measure. I'm the team player who doesn't like to be alone; who dislikes sudden changes; is mercy-motivated and is happy to help administrate the details. My kids give me a hard time when I'm writing on the laptop too long. "Come out and play," they say. Between the two of us, Bill and I have a combination of all four styles in our marriage -- which, theoretically, works really great when all inner conflicts have been resolved. It gives us a complete offering of all the styles... Great for child-rearing, and problem solving.
The "aha," you ask? It was this week. I had a picture go through my head... had to be God-breathed. It made me laugh, actually. Picture this: A golden retriever with a lion's mane tied around its head. Silly? Perhaps. Think about this... Golden retrievers and lions are the same color, but they are not the same. They will never be the same. Lions roar and establish territory. Retrievers bark and couldn't care less about territory. Lions can walk ahead, and work alone. Retrievers need a pack, or companionship.
I realized this week that for one reason or another, I had placed undue expectations on my God-given personality. As a result, I had been struggling with guilt when I found myself unable to follow through with those unspoken expectations. No one put it on me -- I just absorbed it over time. When or how I picked it up, I'll never know. I think it must have happened gradually -- an incremental "weighing down" if you will. Somehow, I thought I had to be more "lion-ly" in my day-to-day life.... I felt guilty for my emotional genetics, something God never intended. Finally, when it surfaced, my hubby and I worked through it. "I'm so tired," I told him. "Something has to give." Then, came the vulnerable question. "What do you think?"
"I didn't know you were carrying all that. I don't want that for you," he said. "Let's fix it." Did I tell you he was a kind lion -- and my best friend?
Sometimes, without realizing it, we try to change ourselves, denying who we were created to become. Sometimes, we decide to dislike the personality God gave us because we want to gain greater acceptance (we think) or wider approval (we hope). Sometimes, we allow circumstances and relationships to weigh us down, changing us for survival. Sometimes, we just slam the door and refuse to think about it.
But it's part of our purpose on the planet -- this discovering of design and purpose. God's intention is to strengthen our inner selves, so that we live our lives in truth, adhering to His created purpose. How long has it been since you asked Him who He wants you to be?
He's got a plan, you know. And it's a good one -- with a future and a hope. But it might involve a little change....
(C) 2010 DG -- Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Now, if you aren't familiar with personality profiles, let me help here by explaining a little. I have to set the story up for you -- because this week, I made a discovery of my own.
Personality profiling is used all over the workplace these days, to help corporations learn about team dynamics. Profiling tools are used to help workers discover what needs adjustment in their working relationships. Some Human Resource departments use profiling tools, to learn whether an applicant desiring a job would really be a "fit" for that particular job. Police departments create profiles in order to catch criminals.... it's fascinating stuff. And uncannyingly accurate!
Simply put: there are four basic personality types. Everyone on the planet carries all four, in varying degrees. And, while some people are similar, each combination is unique; mixing with our individual learning styles, our level of emotional development, etc., to define our personality; our Personhood. Additionally, most of us utilize different forms of ourselves depending upon the pressures of the environment we find ourselves in.... Short version; one of the main keys to healthy living is choosing to do whatever it takes to heal and grow-- The end goal is to become consistently stable, in holding to the same personality in every environment. This is called "congruency"... although no one comes to it quickly ... or perfectly.
Understand here, I am talking about Emotional Quotient (which involves inner life; feelings, principles, values and morals) -- as opposed to Intelligence Quotient (which involves outer life; facts, cliches, status and task). Relationships are part of the EQ of life -- When relationships are run in IQ, they fail every time....
But EQ is hard to grasp; it's like learning a new language, especially if inner life wasn't addressed in bonding years. EQ is intangible and relationship based -- most of us need help to "get it." On the other hand, IQ is easier to get hold of, because it is task oriented and has to to with the tangibles -- "just the facts, please." As a result, the majority of us live our lives in the IQ levels, avoiding the pain of digging into the EQ, for as long as we can possibly get away with it....
Personality types vary in degrees. To put it simply -- here are the four styles -- 1. The Driver; the lion, or choleric... 2. The Inspirer; the otter, or sanguine.... 3. The Steady; the golden retriever, or phlegmatic..... 4. The Conscientous; the beaver, or melancholic.....
After years of behavioral analysis, mediating conflicts, helping couples decipher "missed moments," I made a discovery of my own this week. You know, the "aha" moment, the "synapses" -- when the left and right brain connect, and you wonder why you didn't "see it' before....
My husband is a "lion" -- by that I mean his personality type. He is one of those energetic, determined leader-guys, who enjoys being out in front forging a path. He could cut a path through the jungle with a machete, and not mind the challenges of being the first to get there. His secondary personality type is the "otter." You know the type; always telling jokes; drawing people in with his stories. When it comes to his learning style, he has this mind that never forgets a name. It has to be a gift. I say that because I have a hard time with names. I remember faces, and then my mind runs through the alphabet -- "Was it an A name? B?"
At one point, I thought I could improve my mind-remembering skill-level; I didn't realize the problem was part of my genetics. Because my relationships with people are important to me, I tried a course in memory-association. This particular course was excellent -- the problem was the student.... Here was the proposed process: Think of a picture that reminds you of the item (or person) you want to remember. Give the picture a name that relates to their name, or a feature of their person. Well, the course promises that the next time you see the person, you will remember the association, etc. Hence, success.
I must have been missing that day -- that part of my IQ level wasn't developed yet..... A lady came to visit us. In the midst of a sea of faces, I learned her name; "Mrs. Stack." She was a a rather large woman, with short, blonde, straight hair. So, in my mind, for some reason, I pictured a haystack. Go figure. Did it work, you ask? Well, the next time I saw her, the part of recalling the image worked. The yellow haystack showed up in my mind; but so did self-doubt. I called her "Mrs. Needle."
You're smiling. I can't help it. My mind just goes blank.
My husband is a lion. Like Aslan, in the Chronicles of Narnia, he isn't a tame lion, but he's kind....
Me? I'm a "golden retriever," with a little "beaver" thrown in for good measure. I'm the team player who doesn't like to be alone; who dislikes sudden changes; is mercy-motivated and is happy to help administrate the details. My kids give me a hard time when I'm writing on the laptop too long. "Come out and play," they say. Between the two of us, Bill and I have a combination of all four styles in our marriage -- which, theoretically, works really great when all inner conflicts have been resolved. It gives us a complete offering of all the styles... Great for child-rearing, and problem solving.
The "aha," you ask? It was this week. I had a picture go through my head... had to be God-breathed. It made me laugh, actually. Picture this: A golden retriever with a lion's mane tied around its head. Silly? Perhaps. Think about this... Golden retrievers and lions are the same color, but they are not the same. They will never be the same. Lions roar and establish territory. Retrievers bark and couldn't care less about territory. Lions can walk ahead, and work alone. Retrievers need a pack, or companionship.
I realized this week that for one reason or another, I had placed undue expectations on my God-given personality. As a result, I had been struggling with guilt when I found myself unable to follow through with those unspoken expectations. No one put it on me -- I just absorbed it over time. When or how I picked it up, I'll never know. I think it must have happened gradually -- an incremental "weighing down" if you will. Somehow, I thought I had to be more "lion-ly" in my day-to-day life.... I felt guilty for my emotional genetics, something God never intended. Finally, when it surfaced, my hubby and I worked through it. "I'm so tired," I told him. "Something has to give." Then, came the vulnerable question. "What do you think?"
"I didn't know you were carrying all that. I don't want that for you," he said. "Let's fix it." Did I tell you he was a kind lion -- and my best friend?
Sometimes, without realizing it, we try to change ourselves, denying who we were created to become. Sometimes, we decide to dislike the personality God gave us because we want to gain greater acceptance (we think) or wider approval (we hope). Sometimes, we allow circumstances and relationships to weigh us down, changing us for survival. Sometimes, we just slam the door and refuse to think about it.
But it's part of our purpose on the planet -- this discovering of design and purpose. God's intention is to strengthen our inner selves, so that we live our lives in truth, adhering to His created purpose. How long has it been since you asked Him who He wants you to be?
He's got a plan, you know. And it's a good one -- with a future and a hope. But it might involve a little change....
(C) 2010 DG -- Awakened to Grow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Monday, April 12, 2010
bridge-building
There is a story my husband loves to tell, about this man who was walking on a beach one day. Looking down, he sees a brass lamp, which he excitedly pulls out of the sand. As he begins to rub the sand away, (you guessed it), a genie appears. The genie asks him, “I am allowed to grant you one wish. What would you like more than anything else?”
The man, being from California, says, “I would like you to build a bridge from Los Angeles to Hawaii, with restrooms, and no tolls.”
The genie frowns, replying, “Are you nuts? Don’t you know that will disrupt the shipping lanes? Besides, in order to engineer a secure bridge in the middle of the ocean like that, I will have to make all kinds of changes to the weather patterns.” He stops and thinks. “No, I don’t think your bridge is such a good idea. What else would you like?”
The man looks at the genie, pondering. Then, he answers, “I think I would like to understand the female mind.”
The genie smiles, and then responds. “Would you like that bridge to be a four lane or two lane?”
Ha ha, very funny, I say…
But then, I’m female. My husband, and every man he has ever told the story to, just howl together in laughter. Interesting, I thought. So, during a speaking engagement, I decided to reverse the genders in the story, and see what happened. Guess what? The women laughed, and the men didn’t. Let me say here, that Bill and I spend lots of time in communication each day; and I am finding myself more and more in love with him each day — even after 30 years of marriage.
Communication in marriage is like bridge-building. It is a process requiring time, thoughtfulness, and above all, safety. Over the years, I have been amazed at the number of times I have had to remind married couples that they need to learn to listen, as well as learn to share. Not long ago, I worked with a couple who had been married for more than twenty years, and had never shared their childhood stories with each other. When I asked the husband “why,” he said, “My childhood bothered me, so I didn’t want to upset her.” The wife, for her part, had been waiting for him to initiate a deeper conversation; one delving into the “why’s” of his principles and values. But he had never opened the door. So the silence remained. When the door finally did open, this particular couple discovered a greater appreciation for each other, and a mutual emotional magnetism between them. They fell in love again.
They had come to my office thinking they were heading to divorce court. The Silence between them had become deafening. Sadly, they had waited until their children were grown, using their same patterns of relationship, to ask how the problem could be repaired. Over the years, the Silence had become Unresolved Conflict.
When a man and woman marry, hopefully they do so, because they love each other, and want to spend the rest of their lives together. Hopefully, it is because they have found a safe person who accepts and reciprocates their desire to know and be known. In the Bible, this process is called, “the two becoming one.” Notice that the word ‘becoming’ denotes a process.
Becoming one involves learning to speak a new language — the one your spouse speaks, many times not worrying about whether they are speaking yours… It means both partners giving 150%, rather than an even trade of 50%. Servant-minded living is the economy of the Kingdom. At the end of the day, each partner gains the ability to live in relationship “bi-lingually.” If you need an illustration of how well it works to only speak your own language, imagine yourself needing to find a restroom in a foreign country, and not knowing how to ask. What do you have to do in order to communicate? Of course, you have to find someone who knows your language and ask them how to ask for directions.
It is too easy to consider only one’s own mindset in relationship. And sadly, the “easy way” always costs us. We lose relationship; we lose experience; we miss out on the richness of humor and discovery. Mistakenly believing the only language we will ever need is our own, we isolate, we retreat. We become self-centered, expecting everyone else to come to our point of view.
And far too many times, if we have fortressed ourselves in, Anger shows up when we are asked to speak another language.
Relationship is a God-idea —– Isolated Independence is not.
Honesty and Vulnerability are Creator-concepts —- Defensiveness and Secretive Silence are not.
God created us for Community. Marriage is that Community’s first picture. Family is its second picture. Community is where healing is supposed to take place. It is where relationships grow and develop; where we are allowed to grow; we discover even when we make mistakes. Sadly, even church environments have at times become places where safe community has strayed from His original plan — so how to we learn to trust each other again?
It starts with Hope — Hope opens a door — it’s like finding the brass lamp. Then, we have to let someone else in, to help us to learn a new language. Because understanding the mindset of the opposite gender is always like building a bridge…..
Where do you want to start?
(c) 2010 DG – Awakened to Grow — Duplication without permission prohibited.
The man, being from California, says, “I would like you to build a bridge from Los Angeles to Hawaii, with restrooms, and no tolls.”
The genie frowns, replying, “Are you nuts? Don’t you know that will disrupt the shipping lanes? Besides, in order to engineer a secure bridge in the middle of the ocean like that, I will have to make all kinds of changes to the weather patterns.” He stops and thinks. “No, I don’t think your bridge is such a good idea. What else would you like?”
The man looks at the genie, pondering. Then, he answers, “I think I would like to understand the female mind.”
The genie smiles, and then responds. “Would you like that bridge to be a four lane or two lane?”
Ha ha, very funny, I say…
But then, I’m female. My husband, and every man he has ever told the story to, just howl together in laughter. Interesting, I thought. So, during a speaking engagement, I decided to reverse the genders in the story, and see what happened. Guess what? The women laughed, and the men didn’t. Let me say here, that Bill and I spend lots of time in communication each day; and I am finding myself more and more in love with him each day — even after 30 years of marriage.
Communication in marriage is like bridge-building. It is a process requiring time, thoughtfulness, and above all, safety. Over the years, I have been amazed at the number of times I have had to remind married couples that they need to learn to listen, as well as learn to share. Not long ago, I worked with a couple who had been married for more than twenty years, and had never shared their childhood stories with each other. When I asked the husband “why,” he said, “My childhood bothered me, so I didn’t want to upset her.” The wife, for her part, had been waiting for him to initiate a deeper conversation; one delving into the “why’s” of his principles and values. But he had never opened the door. So the silence remained. When the door finally did open, this particular couple discovered a greater appreciation for each other, and a mutual emotional magnetism between them. They fell in love again.
They had come to my office thinking they were heading to divorce court. The Silence between them had become deafening. Sadly, they had waited until their children were grown, using their same patterns of relationship, to ask how the problem could be repaired. Over the years, the Silence had become Unresolved Conflict.
When a man and woman marry, hopefully they do so, because they love each other, and want to spend the rest of their lives together. Hopefully, it is because they have found a safe person who accepts and reciprocates their desire to know and be known. In the Bible, this process is called, “the two becoming one.” Notice that the word ‘becoming’ denotes a process.
Becoming one involves learning to speak a new language — the one your spouse speaks, many times not worrying about whether they are speaking yours… It means both partners giving 150%, rather than an even trade of 50%. Servant-minded living is the economy of the Kingdom. At the end of the day, each partner gains the ability to live in relationship “bi-lingually.” If you need an illustration of how well it works to only speak your own language, imagine yourself needing to find a restroom in a foreign country, and not knowing how to ask. What do you have to do in order to communicate? Of course, you have to find someone who knows your language and ask them how to ask for directions.
It is too easy to consider only one’s own mindset in relationship. And sadly, the “easy way” always costs us. We lose relationship; we lose experience; we miss out on the richness of humor and discovery. Mistakenly believing the only language we will ever need is our own, we isolate, we retreat. We become self-centered, expecting everyone else to come to our point of view.
And far too many times, if we have fortressed ourselves in, Anger shows up when we are asked to speak another language.
Relationship is a God-idea —– Isolated Independence is not.
Honesty and Vulnerability are Creator-concepts —- Defensiveness and Secretive Silence are not.
God created us for Community. Marriage is that Community’s first picture. Family is its second picture. Community is where healing is supposed to take place. It is where relationships grow and develop; where we are allowed to grow; we discover even when we make mistakes. Sadly, even church environments have at times become places where safe community has strayed from His original plan — so how to we learn to trust each other again?
It starts with Hope — Hope opens a door — it’s like finding the brass lamp. Then, we have to let someone else in, to help us to learn a new language. Because understanding the mindset of the opposite gender is always like building a bridge…..
Where do you want to start?
(c) 2010 DG – Awakened to Grow — Duplication without permission prohibited.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
resurrection
Today’s post is the second excerpt from my soon-to-be-available novel, entitled “Journey”. The book recounts the lives of Mary Magdalene, Simon the Pharisee and many of Jesus’ disciples. It is the result of over 8 years of research and a trip to Israel. This post is my attempt to begin to explain what the power of the resurrection means in my own life. ….
Three days later, just before sunrise, Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of Jesus, made their way to Joseph’s garden tomb. “Surely they will let us anoint his body,” they told each other. “What should we do if no one is there? Who will break the seal and move the stone?”
As they neared the path leading to Joseph’s garden, both women were unexpectedly knocked to their feet. The ground was shaking again, this time with more force and power than either of them had ever seen. Below them, the earth roared, thundering.
Was the world coming to an end?
Just beyond where they were on the path, a flash of lightning lit up the sky.
“Did you see that?” Mary asked Magdalene.
“Yes.” She answered. “Where did it come from?”
“I wondered that too. It didn’t come from the sky.”
Both women broke into a run. As they entered the clearing in front of Joseph’s tomb, they stopped in astonishment.
The great flat stone, some six feet in diameter, had been rolled away from the door. Who had broken the mortar seal?
Around them, on the ground, looking as though they were dead, were five Roman soldiers.
However unusual, these were not the things that drew their attention.
Sitting on top of the stone, to the right of the open doorway, was a young man. He was clothed in a blazing, white garment. He shone with a piercingly bright light. It emanated from him and enveloped him. It moved as he moved.
And yet, they observed, he was real.
The young man looked at them, as though they had been expected. He smiled. “He is not here,” he announced. “He is risen — just like he said.”
“What did you say?” the older Mary asked him.
“Come and see.” The young man indicated the open doorway to the tomb. “Go in, and see the place where he was laid.”
Not exactly sure what they should do next, the two women looked at each other. They would have to pass this glowing figure in order to go through the door.
The older Mary took the lead. Taking Magdalene’s hand she led them through the doorway. Was it authentic? Magdalene watched the young man, to see what he would do.
He seemed to be enjoying himself.
He watched them as they passed. He smiled at them.
Entering the grave, the two women were greeted by two more young men in glowing white garments. Both were sitting on the bench where Jesus’ body had been placed the day after the feast.
Was it brighter in here, the older Mary wondered? Where was the Light coming from?
Who were these men, Magdalene questioned? They carried the same Light and Substance with them she had encountered the night of her deliverance.
Were these angels, then?
She couldn’t stand up in this atmosphere, she realized. She fell to her knees. So did the other Mary.
The angel sitting on the head-plate spoke, looking directly at Magdalene. “He is not here,” he said clearly. “He has risen. Look here. This is the place where he was.”
The second angel, sitting at the foot-plate, looked at the older Mary and smiled. “Go and tell the learners — and Peter — He is going before you to Galilee,” he said.
What? The women looked at each other, and walked out of the tomb. Upon their exit, they were greeted by Salome, Elsbeth, Joanna, Abigail and Hadassah. Each woman was carrying a bag of myrrh and spices.
“Good morning!” Hadassah said.
“What are you doing here?” Magdalene asked.
“We came to anoint the body. We’ve decided we will unwrap him if we have to,” Salome spoke.
“It’s not here.” The older Mary spoke with a new conviction.
“What’s not here?” Salome asked.
“The body; it’s not here.” Mary looked at them as she repeated her words.
“Did you see the angel?” Magdalene asked. “He was sitting right here.”
“No, we didn’t see an angel.” Joanna looked at her strangely. “But we did see the soldiers running down the road as we were coming. One of them said something about going to make a report.”
“To Pilate?”
“I don’t think so. They said something about giving account to Caiaphas.” Abigail answered.
“I think one of them was in Commander Flavius’ regiment,” Elsbeth offered. “I remembered seeing him before.”
The older Mary looked at Salome. “The angel said we should tell the disciples the Master is alive, and will be waiting for us in Galilee.”
Salome’s face broke into a smile. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Mary glanced back toward the open door. “Pretty sure!” she answered.
The group of women left together, talking and sharing. It would be wonderful to share the news with John, and James, and Andrew…. They couldn’t wait to see their faces.
But Mary Magdalene couldn’t find the strength to leave the garden area. Old emotions began to surface.
If he wasn’t here, where was he?
She looked back through the tomb door.
Yes, the two angels were still sitting there. She just wanted to be sure.
Her thoughts began to race. Her eyes filled with tears. The pent up fears of the past few days began to rise in a torrent of emotion.
She began to weep; the sense of abandonment overwhelming her once again. What would she do – without Him?
“Why are you weeping?” The angel at the head plate asked, his voice coming through the open doorway.
“Because they have taken my Master away; I don’t know where he is,” she answered. How would she learn to live her life, she wondered? Who would teach her the things she was still missing? Who could she ask?
Would anyone else understand her heart?
Perhaps she just needed to find a place to have a good cry, she thought. Looking down, she turned, and almost ran into someone.
Oh, she thought. The gardeners are here to tend the grounds. I will have to go somewhere else to be alone.
“Why are you weeping?” the gardener asked.
There it was; the same question. Magdalene decided to get some answers. There had to be an answer. She would find strength somewhere inside herself to handle this. She took a deep breath
“Sir,” she said. “You are the gardener. If you have taken his body somewhere, please tell me where it is….” Her voice broke, and she began to weep harder. Sobs were beginning now. She had to get the words out. “I …. will…come and take… his… body… away.”
There was a short stretch of silence. She didn’t know what else to say.
Where could they have laid the body?
The Gardener spoke, gently; kindly, quietly.
“Mary!”
From the deep caverns of her soul, her being resonated with response. This was the Voice that shattered her chains in the storeroom. This was the Voice that called her brother back from beyond the grave. This was the Voice that had shaped her identity since the night of her deliverance.
This was the Voice of her God.
She fell to her knees, and took hold of his feet in worship, weeping. “Oh, Master!” she cried with relief. “Jesus!”
He knelt down and lifted her to her feet. “I haven’t ascended to the Mercy Seat, Mary. Don’t cling to me yet.” He paused. “Go and tell my friends that I am ascending — to my Father; and your Father — to my God; and your God.”
She stood up. Looking at him she realized he was shining. It was the same light she had seen surrounding the angels; but it was brighter, stronger, somehow. She took a deep breath, and smiled at him.
“I will, Master,” she replied, her heart suddenly light. She turned to go, and then excitedly took a step to return to him. Thinking better of it, she turned again to go the other direction, returning to her task, remembering his words. For a moment, she looked back at him. He was watching her and chuckling. Yes, it was Jesus.
She ran from the tomb. Was this a song she was humming? She didn’t know. She had never been so full of joy. He had kept his promise.
I will not leave you alone. I will come to you.
Perhaps she could still catch up with the others.
A few moments passed.
The older Mary, Salome, and the others, were still moving towards the city. In actuality, they were not too far ahead of her. Coming off the pathway which led to Joseph’s family home, the group turned onto the main road. Suddenly, a man stood six feet in front of them.
“Good morning, friends!” he called in greeting.
Stunned, the women looked up. No one had seen him walking down the road…. Where had he come from?
“It – it’s Jesus!”
The older Mary stood in shock for a moment. Then, all at once, she ran to him, and dropped to her knees, grasping his feet. Was he real? Was it really true?
The other women gathered around him as well; Salome and Joanna, Hadassah and Abigail. Elsbeth just stood weeping. Each one found themselves wanting to confirm what their eyes told them. They too, touched him, hugged him.
As the discovery of reality became clear, a sense of fear emerged. The desire to be separated from such power; somehow given a “safe distance,” whispered to them.
“Don’t be afraid!” Jesus looked clearly at Salome and those standing back, beginning to just observe.
“It’s all right! Come closer!” he said. “Go and tell my friends I will meet them in Galilee.”
The women had run elatedly to deliver the message.
At first, it had not been well received.
At first, the men had not believed them. “Silly women!” a few said. “Magdalene has always been too emotional!”
But then, Simon Peter and John decided to confirm the story. John had gone into the tomb first. He was convinced, and had told them all so.
Poor Simon, Mary considered. He had been sure it couldn’t be true: even when his wife told him her experience!
Then, he had looked into the tomb’s doorway and seen the wrappings neatly folded. The handkerchief Nicodemus had placed over Jesus’ face that night was over to the side, as though he had wiped his face before getting up. In disbelief, Simon Peter had gathered the linen wrappings to his chest.
He had wept, full of remorse, for hours.
He still wept easily, and often.
No one knew when, or where, but the Master found Simon Peter at some point during that first day. She could only envision the conversation which had taken place between them.
Peter didn’t talk much about what Jesus had said to him, but just the mention of it in conversation always brought him to tears.
The fisherman had been different since then too, she considered.
He was gentler, less impulsive; certainly less forceful in his opinions.
Elsbeth had confided that changes had taken place at home as well……
…. To read the rest of the story, look for “Journey” to be available later this spring, released through Advantage Books.
(c)2010 DG — Awakened to Grow — Duplication without permission prohibited.
Three days later, just before sunrise, Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of Jesus, made their way to Joseph’s garden tomb. “Surely they will let us anoint his body,” they told each other. “What should we do if no one is there? Who will break the seal and move the stone?”
As they neared the path leading to Joseph’s garden, both women were unexpectedly knocked to their feet. The ground was shaking again, this time with more force and power than either of them had ever seen. Below them, the earth roared, thundering.
Was the world coming to an end?
Just beyond where they were on the path, a flash of lightning lit up the sky.
“Did you see that?” Mary asked Magdalene.
“Yes.” She answered. “Where did it come from?”
“I wondered that too. It didn’t come from the sky.”
Both women broke into a run. As they entered the clearing in front of Joseph’s tomb, they stopped in astonishment.
The great flat stone, some six feet in diameter, had been rolled away from the door. Who had broken the mortar seal?
Around them, on the ground, looking as though they were dead, were five Roman soldiers.
However unusual, these were not the things that drew their attention.
Sitting on top of the stone, to the right of the open doorway, was a young man. He was clothed in a blazing, white garment. He shone with a piercingly bright light. It emanated from him and enveloped him. It moved as he moved.
And yet, they observed, he was real.
The young man looked at them, as though they had been expected. He smiled. “He is not here,” he announced. “He is risen — just like he said.”
“What did you say?” the older Mary asked him.
“Come and see.” The young man indicated the open doorway to the tomb. “Go in, and see the place where he was laid.”
Not exactly sure what they should do next, the two women looked at each other. They would have to pass this glowing figure in order to go through the door.
The older Mary took the lead. Taking Magdalene’s hand she led them through the doorway. Was it authentic? Magdalene watched the young man, to see what he would do.
He seemed to be enjoying himself.
He watched them as they passed. He smiled at them.
Entering the grave, the two women were greeted by two more young men in glowing white garments. Both were sitting on the bench where Jesus’ body had been placed the day after the feast.
Was it brighter in here, the older Mary wondered? Where was the Light coming from?
Who were these men, Magdalene questioned? They carried the same Light and Substance with them she had encountered the night of her deliverance.
Were these angels, then?
She couldn’t stand up in this atmosphere, she realized. She fell to her knees. So did the other Mary.
The angel sitting on the head-plate spoke, looking directly at Magdalene. “He is not here,” he said clearly. “He has risen. Look here. This is the place where he was.”
The second angel, sitting at the foot-plate, looked at the older Mary and smiled. “Go and tell the learners — and Peter — He is going before you to Galilee,” he said.
What? The women looked at each other, and walked out of the tomb. Upon their exit, they were greeted by Salome, Elsbeth, Joanna, Abigail and Hadassah. Each woman was carrying a bag of myrrh and spices.
“Good morning!” Hadassah said.
“What are you doing here?” Magdalene asked.
“We came to anoint the body. We’ve decided we will unwrap him if we have to,” Salome spoke.
“It’s not here.” The older Mary spoke with a new conviction.
“What’s not here?” Salome asked.
“The body; it’s not here.” Mary looked at them as she repeated her words.
“Did you see the angel?” Magdalene asked. “He was sitting right here.”
“No, we didn’t see an angel.” Joanna looked at her strangely. “But we did see the soldiers running down the road as we were coming. One of them said something about going to make a report.”
“To Pilate?”
“I don’t think so. They said something about giving account to Caiaphas.” Abigail answered.
“I think one of them was in Commander Flavius’ regiment,” Elsbeth offered. “I remembered seeing him before.”
The older Mary looked at Salome. “The angel said we should tell the disciples the Master is alive, and will be waiting for us in Galilee.”
Salome’s face broke into a smile. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Mary glanced back toward the open door. “Pretty sure!” she answered.
The group of women left together, talking and sharing. It would be wonderful to share the news with John, and James, and Andrew…. They couldn’t wait to see their faces.
But Mary Magdalene couldn’t find the strength to leave the garden area. Old emotions began to surface.
If he wasn’t here, where was he?
She looked back through the tomb door.
Yes, the two angels were still sitting there. She just wanted to be sure.
Her thoughts began to race. Her eyes filled with tears. The pent up fears of the past few days began to rise in a torrent of emotion.
She began to weep; the sense of abandonment overwhelming her once again. What would she do – without Him?
“Why are you weeping?” The angel at the head plate asked, his voice coming through the open doorway.
“Because they have taken my Master away; I don’t know where he is,” she answered. How would she learn to live her life, she wondered? Who would teach her the things she was still missing? Who could she ask?
Would anyone else understand her heart?
Perhaps she just needed to find a place to have a good cry, she thought. Looking down, she turned, and almost ran into someone.
Oh, she thought. The gardeners are here to tend the grounds. I will have to go somewhere else to be alone.
“Why are you weeping?” the gardener asked.
There it was; the same question. Magdalene decided to get some answers. There had to be an answer. She would find strength somewhere inside herself to handle this. She took a deep breath
“Sir,” she said. “You are the gardener. If you have taken his body somewhere, please tell me where it is….” Her voice broke, and she began to weep harder. Sobs were beginning now. She had to get the words out. “I …. will…come and take… his… body… away.”
There was a short stretch of silence. She didn’t know what else to say.
Where could they have laid the body?
The Gardener spoke, gently; kindly, quietly.
“Mary!”
From the deep caverns of her soul, her being resonated with response. This was the Voice that shattered her chains in the storeroom. This was the Voice that called her brother back from beyond the grave. This was the Voice that had shaped her identity since the night of her deliverance.
This was the Voice of her God.
She fell to her knees, and took hold of his feet in worship, weeping. “Oh, Master!” she cried with relief. “Jesus!”
He knelt down and lifted her to her feet. “I haven’t ascended to the Mercy Seat, Mary. Don’t cling to me yet.” He paused. “Go and tell my friends that I am ascending — to my Father; and your Father — to my God; and your God.”
She stood up. Looking at him she realized he was shining. It was the same light she had seen surrounding the angels; but it was brighter, stronger, somehow. She took a deep breath, and smiled at him.
“I will, Master,” she replied, her heart suddenly light. She turned to go, and then excitedly took a step to return to him. Thinking better of it, she turned again to go the other direction, returning to her task, remembering his words. For a moment, she looked back at him. He was watching her and chuckling. Yes, it was Jesus.
She ran from the tomb. Was this a song she was humming? She didn’t know. She had never been so full of joy. He had kept his promise.
I will not leave you alone. I will come to you.
Perhaps she could still catch up with the others.
A few moments passed.
The older Mary, Salome, and the others, were still moving towards the city. In actuality, they were not too far ahead of her. Coming off the pathway which led to Joseph’s family home, the group turned onto the main road. Suddenly, a man stood six feet in front of them.
“Good morning, friends!” he called in greeting.
Stunned, the women looked up. No one had seen him walking down the road…. Where had he come from?
“It – it’s Jesus!”
The older Mary stood in shock for a moment. Then, all at once, she ran to him, and dropped to her knees, grasping his feet. Was he real? Was it really true?
The other women gathered around him as well; Salome and Joanna, Hadassah and Abigail. Elsbeth just stood weeping. Each one found themselves wanting to confirm what their eyes told them. They too, touched him, hugged him.
As the discovery of reality became clear, a sense of fear emerged. The desire to be separated from such power; somehow given a “safe distance,” whispered to them.
“Don’t be afraid!” Jesus looked clearly at Salome and those standing back, beginning to just observe.
“It’s all right! Come closer!” he said. “Go and tell my friends I will meet them in Galilee.”
The women had run elatedly to deliver the message.
At first, it had not been well received.
At first, the men had not believed them. “Silly women!” a few said. “Magdalene has always been too emotional!”
But then, Simon Peter and John decided to confirm the story. John had gone into the tomb first. He was convinced, and had told them all so.
Poor Simon, Mary considered. He had been sure it couldn’t be true: even when his wife told him her experience!
Then, he had looked into the tomb’s doorway and seen the wrappings neatly folded. The handkerchief Nicodemus had placed over Jesus’ face that night was over to the side, as though he had wiped his face before getting up. In disbelief, Simon Peter had gathered the linen wrappings to his chest.
He had wept, full of remorse, for hours.
He still wept easily, and often.
No one knew when, or where, but the Master found Simon Peter at some point during that first day. She could only envision the conversation which had taken place between them.
Peter didn’t talk much about what Jesus had said to him, but just the mention of it in conversation always brought him to tears.
The fisherman had been different since then too, she considered.
He was gentler, less impulsive; certainly less forceful in his opinions.
Elsbeth had confided that changes had taken place at home as well……
…. To read the rest of the story, look for “Journey” to be available later this spring, released through Advantage Books.
(c)2010 DG — Awakened to Grow — Duplication without permission prohibited.
Friday, April 2, 2010
good friday
Today is Good Friday, the beginning of a celebration of New Life for Christians all over the world. Today, I wanted to post an excerpt from my soon-to-be-available historical novel, entitled, “Journey.” It is a peek into what the day of the Crucifixion might have been like for people who were there to experience it. –
From chapter sixteen — “New Wine”
It was sunset before Antonio Longinus returned to his quarters in the Fortress. Justus Flavius had been off-duty for several hours.
Taking off his sword, and his shoes, Antonius sat down across from him. “It was quite a day today,” he said.
Justus did not look up. “Yes, quite a day,” he answered quietly.
“Your man Atticus was a real help today, Flavius. I appreciated him getting that foreigner to carry the Galilean’s cross. Your men did well. I am going to include a commendation in my report to Rome.”
“Thank you,” Justus answered, still quiet.
Longinus sat down by him. “What’s wrong, man? Have you not eaten? Did you get bad news?”
Justus lifted his head. “One of my best friends died today,” he said.
Longinus nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry. Did he die here in Jerusalem or back home?”
“Here,” Justus answered, looking down again at the floor.
“Oh,” Longinus walked across the room and took two wooden goblets. He filled them with wine. Looking through the provisions on his table, he pulled out loaf of bread. He tore the loaf in two, and began preparing two plates of food. “Come and sit with me, at least. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”
Unfeeling, Justus rose and came to the table. He sat down across from Longinus, who began to speak.
“In all my years, I’ve never seen an execution quite like the one we saw today. I’ve never seen that many people, or that much blood. And, until today, I thought it was against the law to scourge and crucify a man. I thought the rulers were supposed to choose.”
Justus looked at him. “It still is against the law.”
Longinus took a drink of his wine. “You know, that one man; the one in the middle; what was his name?
“Jesus.” As Justus spoke, his voice broke.
“Oh,” said Longinus, tearing a piece of bread. “Was he your friend?”
The Capernaum commander nodded. “He was a Healer. He healed my servant. He raised my friend’s daughter from the dead. He healed several lepers that I know. He….”
Longinus interrupted him. “He raised someone from the dead?”
Justus nodded.
“I knew there was something about him. You should have heard the things he said from the cross. He gave out forgiveness. He asked a man to take care of his mother. It was like he was looking out for people.” He paused. There was one thing he said I didn’t understand; garbled, you know….Then he said, ‘it is finished,’ like he had completed some sort of job or something.” The centurion paused to take bite of his food.
“Anyway, usually I have to break a man’s legs so the lungs collapse. That way they die before sunset, and the birds don’t get to them. Some of the men don’t do it that way, but I hate going back the next day and seeing places where the vultures have had their fill.”
Justus shuddered. Longinus continued, his mouth full of food. “This man was already dead when I went to check him. Just before, he had said, “I’m giving my spirit into your hands.” I thought he was talking to one of his group that stood there all day. But just after he said it, he let out a long yell.”
“I wanted to be certain he was dead, so I took my spear, and opened up his side. It’s important to be sure the lungs have really stopped working, you know. It’s more merciful, really. I wouldn’t want to be buried alive, would you?”
He swallowed his mouthful.
“Anyway, I told my captain ‘this man must be the son of God!’ When the spear hit the lungs, a fountain of blood and water came rushing out of him. It went everywhere.”
“Is that unusual?” Justus asked
“It’s never happened before; at least not to me.” He paused. “I left my men there to finish the burial detail.”
A knock sounded on the door. Justus rose to answer it. “Go ahead and eat, Antonio,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
When he opened the door, Justus was greeted by young messenger, dressed in the regalia of Pilate’s court. “Commander?” the messenger said.
“Yes,” Justus answered, not remembering the message would be for Longinus. He took out his hand and took the sealed scroll.
The young man put his fist to his chest and saluted, then walked away. Closing the door, Justus looked at Antonio. “It’s a message from Pilate, I think,” he said.
“Go ahead and read it,” came the reply. “Are you going to eat your meat?”
“No, I’m not really hungry.”
Longinus moved Justus’ plate in front of himself, and continued eating. Justus opened the message and read.
“We have both been summoned to come to Pilate’s palace.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Let’s go then. Let me just clean up a little.”
When they arrived in Pilate’s court, the two officers were ushered immediately to the throne room. Pilate looked up from the scroll he was reading. He rolled it up and gave it to the scribe who stood by him.
“Yes, that is what I wanted to say. Make sure you include the extra details I told you.”
“Yes, sire,” the scribe responded.
Pontius Pilate looked at the men before him. “So, Longinus, I’m sorry to call for you. I know you’ve had a long day.” He looked at Justus. “Who is this?”
“My name is Justus Flavius, sire. I serve Rome in Capernaum. My men and I were summoned as support for the Passover detail.”
“This has been a nasty business,” Pilate commented. “At least it will be over tomorrow.” He looked around the room, and raised his hand to indicate a man in priest’s robes standing just to the left side of the bema, or judgment seat where he sat.
“Longinus, this is Joseph of Arimathea. He is a wealthy man; well respected in the city. He has asked for the body of Jesus, the Nazarene. He wants to take care of the burial requirements for us. He will need help getting the body down.”
Longinus and Flavius looked at Joseph. “We will see to it, my lord,” Antonio answered.
“There’s more,” Pilate said. “I also called you here because we have a small complication. Caiaphas has yet again managed to put a fly in my ointment. He has ‘requested’ that we set a watch on the tomb for three days. It seems this man said he was going to rise from the dead or some such nonsense. I want you to seal the tomb and set a watch. Rotate the men if you have to. I know they are all tired after the week.” He paused, thinking.
“That’s all,” the Prefect finished. “You can go.”
As Justus and Antonio turned to go, they heard him speak to his assistant. “I asked you for water and a towel.”
“I brought them to you, sire,” the assistant responded.
“I know. I used those. They are soiled now. I need another basin of water,” Pilate commanded. “I need to scrub my hands again.”
“Yes, sire. I will do whatever you say. But if you keep washing your hands, you will rub them even rawer than they already are.”
“Don’t presume to tell me what to do, man!” the Prefect angrily replied. “Who are you to tell me if my hands are clean or unclean? I have to get this blood off of them!”
Outside the palace, the three were met by another priest. He was waiting in a wagon. “What did he say, Joseph?” Nicodemus asked.
“He gave me the body,” Joseph answered. “But these gentlemen have been asked to seal the tomb and guard it.”
“I have myrrh and aloes to anoint his wounds and prepare him for burial, here in the wagon,” Nicodemus told him.
“It will take a huge amount,” Joseph said, with a sad sigh. “How much did you bring?”
“About a hundred pounds,” came the reply.
“That might be enough,” Joseph answered. “We had better hurry. Nightfall is coming.”
(C) 2010 DG- AwakenedtoGrow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
From chapter sixteen — “New Wine”
It was sunset before Antonio Longinus returned to his quarters in the Fortress. Justus Flavius had been off-duty for several hours.
Taking off his sword, and his shoes, Antonius sat down across from him. “It was quite a day today,” he said.
Justus did not look up. “Yes, quite a day,” he answered quietly.
“Your man Atticus was a real help today, Flavius. I appreciated him getting that foreigner to carry the Galilean’s cross. Your men did well. I am going to include a commendation in my report to Rome.”
“Thank you,” Justus answered, still quiet.
Longinus sat down by him. “What’s wrong, man? Have you not eaten? Did you get bad news?”
Justus lifted his head. “One of my best friends died today,” he said.
Longinus nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry. Did he die here in Jerusalem or back home?”
“Here,” Justus answered, looking down again at the floor.
“Oh,” Longinus walked across the room and took two wooden goblets. He filled them with wine. Looking through the provisions on his table, he pulled out loaf of bread. He tore the loaf in two, and began preparing two plates of food. “Come and sit with me, at least. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”
Unfeeling, Justus rose and came to the table. He sat down across from Longinus, who began to speak.
“In all my years, I’ve never seen an execution quite like the one we saw today. I’ve never seen that many people, or that much blood. And, until today, I thought it was against the law to scourge and crucify a man. I thought the rulers were supposed to choose.”
Justus looked at him. “It still is against the law.”
Longinus took a drink of his wine. “You know, that one man; the one in the middle; what was his name?
“Jesus.” As Justus spoke, his voice broke.
“Oh,” said Longinus, tearing a piece of bread. “Was he your friend?”
The Capernaum commander nodded. “He was a Healer. He healed my servant. He raised my friend’s daughter from the dead. He healed several lepers that I know. He….”
Longinus interrupted him. “He raised someone from the dead?”
Justus nodded.
“I knew there was something about him. You should have heard the things he said from the cross. He gave out forgiveness. He asked a man to take care of his mother. It was like he was looking out for people.” He paused. There was one thing he said I didn’t understand; garbled, you know….Then he said, ‘it is finished,’ like he had completed some sort of job or something.” The centurion paused to take bite of his food.
“Anyway, usually I have to break a man’s legs so the lungs collapse. That way they die before sunset, and the birds don’t get to them. Some of the men don’t do it that way, but I hate going back the next day and seeing places where the vultures have had their fill.”
Justus shuddered. Longinus continued, his mouth full of food. “This man was already dead when I went to check him. Just before, he had said, “I’m giving my spirit into your hands.” I thought he was talking to one of his group that stood there all day. But just after he said it, he let out a long yell.”
“I wanted to be certain he was dead, so I took my spear, and opened up his side. It’s important to be sure the lungs have really stopped working, you know. It’s more merciful, really. I wouldn’t want to be buried alive, would you?”
He swallowed his mouthful.
“Anyway, I told my captain ‘this man must be the son of God!’ When the spear hit the lungs, a fountain of blood and water came rushing out of him. It went everywhere.”
“Is that unusual?” Justus asked
“It’s never happened before; at least not to me.” He paused. “I left my men there to finish the burial detail.”
A knock sounded on the door. Justus rose to answer it. “Go ahead and eat, Antonio,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
When he opened the door, Justus was greeted by young messenger, dressed in the regalia of Pilate’s court. “Commander?” the messenger said.
“Yes,” Justus answered, not remembering the message would be for Longinus. He took out his hand and took the sealed scroll.
The young man put his fist to his chest and saluted, then walked away. Closing the door, Justus looked at Antonio. “It’s a message from Pilate, I think,” he said.
“Go ahead and read it,” came the reply. “Are you going to eat your meat?”
“No, I’m not really hungry.”
Longinus moved Justus’ plate in front of himself, and continued eating. Justus opened the message and read.
“We have both been summoned to come to Pilate’s palace.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Let’s go then. Let me just clean up a little.”
When they arrived in Pilate’s court, the two officers were ushered immediately to the throne room. Pilate looked up from the scroll he was reading. He rolled it up and gave it to the scribe who stood by him.
“Yes, that is what I wanted to say. Make sure you include the extra details I told you.”
“Yes, sire,” the scribe responded.
Pontius Pilate looked at the men before him. “So, Longinus, I’m sorry to call for you. I know you’ve had a long day.” He looked at Justus. “Who is this?”
“My name is Justus Flavius, sire. I serve Rome in Capernaum. My men and I were summoned as support for the Passover detail.”
“This has been a nasty business,” Pilate commented. “At least it will be over tomorrow.” He looked around the room, and raised his hand to indicate a man in priest’s robes standing just to the left side of the bema, or judgment seat where he sat.
“Longinus, this is Joseph of Arimathea. He is a wealthy man; well respected in the city. He has asked for the body of Jesus, the Nazarene. He wants to take care of the burial requirements for us. He will need help getting the body down.”
Longinus and Flavius looked at Joseph. “We will see to it, my lord,” Antonio answered.
“There’s more,” Pilate said. “I also called you here because we have a small complication. Caiaphas has yet again managed to put a fly in my ointment. He has ‘requested’ that we set a watch on the tomb for three days. It seems this man said he was going to rise from the dead or some such nonsense. I want you to seal the tomb and set a watch. Rotate the men if you have to. I know they are all tired after the week.” He paused, thinking.
“That’s all,” the Prefect finished. “You can go.”
As Justus and Antonio turned to go, they heard him speak to his assistant. “I asked you for water and a towel.”
“I brought them to you, sire,” the assistant responded.
“I know. I used those. They are soiled now. I need another basin of water,” Pilate commanded. “I need to scrub my hands again.”
“Yes, sire. I will do whatever you say. But if you keep washing your hands, you will rub them even rawer than they already are.”
“Don’t presume to tell me what to do, man!” the Prefect angrily replied. “Who are you to tell me if my hands are clean or unclean? I have to get this blood off of them!”
Outside the palace, the three were met by another priest. He was waiting in a wagon. “What did he say, Joseph?” Nicodemus asked.
“He gave me the body,” Joseph answered. “But these gentlemen have been asked to seal the tomb and guard it.”
“I have myrrh and aloes to anoint his wounds and prepare him for burial, here in the wagon,” Nicodemus told him.
“It will take a huge amount,” Joseph said, with a sad sigh. “How much did you bring?”
“About a hundred pounds,” came the reply.
“That might be enough,” Joseph answered. “We had better hurry. Nightfall is coming.”
(C) 2010 DG- AwakenedtoGrow. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
sleepers and contracts
Abram was sleeping. You heard me. Not awake. He had dozed off and was in a state of slumber. He was resting on the ground without a pillow; with dreaming accompanied by nightmares. He was out; semi-comotose; talking with the Sandman. He was sneaking forty winks; getting some ZZZ’s.
He was probably snoring too.
For a man who had been so gun-ho about the deal, it wasn’t looking so good at the moment. How could he fall asleep?
Abram had done his best to listen to God. He was doing his utmost to follow. Even when the people around him thought he was crazy! He had changed everything he knew to change, and had pursued every avenue he knew to pursue. And still, he waited.
There were times, oft in the middle of the night, when a persistent Strong Urging would speak. The Voice continued to draw him in. This unseen, hard to understand, yet all-encompassing Presence would speak. “I am with you. Don’t be afraid.”
Even in the midst of his dysfunctional family, Abram kept holding on to his hope. Someday the promises he had heard in his heart would be fulfilled. Someday, hopefully soon, he would understand. It had been years. Was his soul weary? He didn’t know.
All he could do was to keep living his life. And so he did.
Day in, and day out, his routines maintained their rhythm. Seasons in, and seasons out, his world continued. His flocks and herds grew. His crops were harvested. Cities were built and battled for. Cultures rose and fell. Governments chased their agendas.
One day, in the midst of his faithful plodding, the Voice came once again. “Set up a contract site for us, Abram. I want to meet with you.” Oh, how his heart filled with joy and anticipation! The God he had waited to see was coming to him! It wouldn’t be long now! Everything would be fine! Full of gladness, he placed the animal halves in their positions. He looked around. Yes, everything was ready.
Even the torch was in place. Waiting to be lit when his Unseen Partner arrived.
And he waited. He would do all that was required. He would show himself worthy. And when it was done, he would keep his side of the bargain. The Voice would know he had been the right choice!
But then, he fell asleep. Sound. How could he? You would think that if someone had left their country, their family, their home, in order to discover a burgeoning, illustrious promise, the least he could do would be to stay awake! Wouldn’t you? And, in light of his failure; any good businessman would walk away from such a partner! A go-getter would see that Abram wasn’t really made of the right material.
Small failures have been known to break large deals. Contracts have been abandoned for much less than a nap before. After all, sleeping men can’t make their signature; or shake hands; or look you in the eyes; or even agree.
When the time came, Terror showed up, battling for Abram’s sanity. What was his reality now, he wondered?
But then, the Voice came. Bringing Peace. It was the Voice that lit the torch, passing it between the sides of the physical contract. How was that possible? Was it the purpose of the Voice to keep both sides of the contract? Who could do such a thing? And yet, it had apparently been the original plan to do so.
When they spoke later, the Voice explained a new word to Abram’s understanding. “It is my everlasting Covenant, Abram.”
Covenant. In the midst of failure; God remains.
Covenant. When the heart has fallen asleep and is unaware; God remains.
Covenant. When the soul is weary, and Terror descends; God remains.
Everlasting Covenant.
Abba Father does not make contracts. He keeps covenants. He is the Promiser, and the Keeper of Promises. And, while many around us may judge the standing and status of our existence based upon comparisons; please know that God does not. Conditional approval comes from a much darker realm.
In the eternal scheme of things, our small failures cannot break His large deals. He will not abandon us. When we realize we have been less than faithful, He remains faithful….. And He is aware when we find ourselves unable to make our signature; or shake hands; or look Him in the eyes. He even knows when the perceptions and imprintings of our hearts fight us when we really desire to trust and believe.
Dear reader, it is important that you know at this point that you are important to him. You were planned long before the earth was blueprinted. Your gender, your ethnicity, your giftings, and even your eye color were mapped out, complete with only good plans for your life…”plans for a future and a hope.” And know this: your ability to maintain a God-relationship is a matter of His everlasting covenant; not of your performance-oriented contract. He is on your side, and He wants to help you succeed.
After all, He is the Maker and Keeper of Promises. He’s got you.
And, by the way, the Voice’s name is Jesus.
(C) 2010 DG –Awakenedtogrow.com. Duplication without permission prohibited.
He was probably snoring too.
For a man who had been so gun-ho about the deal, it wasn’t looking so good at the moment. How could he fall asleep?
Abram had done his best to listen to God. He was doing his utmost to follow. Even when the people around him thought he was crazy! He had changed everything he knew to change, and had pursued every avenue he knew to pursue. And still, he waited.
There were times, oft in the middle of the night, when a persistent Strong Urging would speak. The Voice continued to draw him in. This unseen, hard to understand, yet all-encompassing Presence would speak. “I am with you. Don’t be afraid.”
Even in the midst of his dysfunctional family, Abram kept holding on to his hope. Someday the promises he had heard in his heart would be fulfilled. Someday, hopefully soon, he would understand. It had been years. Was his soul weary? He didn’t know.
All he could do was to keep living his life. And so he did.
Day in, and day out, his routines maintained their rhythm. Seasons in, and seasons out, his world continued. His flocks and herds grew. His crops were harvested. Cities were built and battled for. Cultures rose and fell. Governments chased their agendas.
One day, in the midst of his faithful plodding, the Voice came once again. “Set up a contract site for us, Abram. I want to meet with you.” Oh, how his heart filled with joy and anticipation! The God he had waited to see was coming to him! It wouldn’t be long now! Everything would be fine! Full of gladness, he placed the animal halves in their positions. He looked around. Yes, everything was ready.
Even the torch was in place. Waiting to be lit when his Unseen Partner arrived.
And he waited. He would do all that was required. He would show himself worthy. And when it was done, he would keep his side of the bargain. The Voice would know he had been the right choice!
But then, he fell asleep. Sound. How could he? You would think that if someone had left their country, their family, their home, in order to discover a burgeoning, illustrious promise, the least he could do would be to stay awake! Wouldn’t you? And, in light of his failure; any good businessman would walk away from such a partner! A go-getter would see that Abram wasn’t really made of the right material.
Small failures have been known to break large deals. Contracts have been abandoned for much less than a nap before. After all, sleeping men can’t make their signature; or shake hands; or look you in the eyes; or even agree.
When the time came, Terror showed up, battling for Abram’s sanity. What was his reality now, he wondered?
But then, the Voice came. Bringing Peace. It was the Voice that lit the torch, passing it between the sides of the physical contract. How was that possible? Was it the purpose of the Voice to keep both sides of the contract? Who could do such a thing? And yet, it had apparently been the original plan to do so.
When they spoke later, the Voice explained a new word to Abram’s understanding. “It is my everlasting Covenant, Abram.”
Covenant. In the midst of failure; God remains.
Covenant. When the heart has fallen asleep and is unaware; God remains.
Covenant. When the soul is weary, and Terror descends; God remains.
Everlasting Covenant.
Abba Father does not make contracts. He keeps covenants. He is the Promiser, and the Keeper of Promises. And, while many around us may judge the standing and status of our existence based upon comparisons; please know that God does not. Conditional approval comes from a much darker realm.
In the eternal scheme of things, our small failures cannot break His large deals. He will not abandon us. When we realize we have been less than faithful, He remains faithful….. And He is aware when we find ourselves unable to make our signature; or shake hands; or look Him in the eyes. He even knows when the perceptions and imprintings of our hearts fight us when we really desire to trust and believe.
Dear reader, it is important that you know at this point that you are important to him. You were planned long before the earth was blueprinted. Your gender, your ethnicity, your giftings, and even your eye color were mapped out, complete with only good plans for your life…”plans for a future and a hope.” And know this: your ability to maintain a God-relationship is a matter of His everlasting covenant; not of your performance-oriented contract. He is on your side, and He wants to help you succeed.
After all, He is the Maker and Keeper of Promises. He’s got you.
And, by the way, the Voice’s name is Jesus.
(C) 2010 DG –Awakenedtogrow.com. Duplication without permission prohibited.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Getting the Signals
Communication is under-rated.
Like when our Rachel was learning to drive. That learning activity was something Bill did with her, and I observed from the back seat. Not having my husband’s great depth perception, my observations many times came with involuntary drawing-ins of air, and the universal-Mom’s invisible-brake pedal.
“Turn left at the next street, honey,” Bill instructed, during one of her early lessons. Now mind you, I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t do exactly what her father told her. Up until that point, she had done rather well, staying between the lines; braking slowly, accelerating respectfully –
During moments like those you learn lessons about your children. Why is it we remember those moments of surprise so well?Perhaps because we are vulnerable; especially when they are driving. After all, they have the steering wheel! That particular driving lesson, we arrived at the left-turn corner in question, and Rachel drove past it, never slowing.
“Why didn’t you turn?” her father asked, watching not only the road-sign, but the purpose of our outing — the Wendy’s and their large Frosty — pass into rear-view.
“You said, ‘turn left,‘ Dad,” she responded, keeping her eyes on the road. “I will when we get there.”
Bill and I exchanged glances. What was she saying?
“We did get there,” I said. “Why didn’t you turn?”
“M- ah-m!” She sighed her reply, using the fifteen-year-old voice that only daughters-who-have-been-daughters, of mothers-who-are-being-mothers would recognize. At the next corner, Rachel began putting one hand over another, turning the steering wheel.
Her dad and I found ourselves laughing. Out loud.
“What?” she asked, looking at us. Her father’s eyes were twinkling as he responded. “Must be your other left, Rach,” was all he said, as the car made a right-hand turn.
From her earliest years, our daughter has mixed her directions. (I could write a book here, but I don’t want to get off track….) When she was five, we tried everything, from making an “L” with the “left” hand, to memory games. We even did the drill: “My left makes an ‘L’ and I write with my right.” She tried hard; even to the point of frustration. The knowledge just didn’t ”stick.” (Bear in mind that these days she is a gifted wedding photographer! And even back then she was designing wedding dresses and evening gowns.)
She just couldn’t remember which side was left, and which side was right!
For the sake of the story, I should tell you: I know exactly where the weakness in Rachel’s personal navigation system came from. It wasn’t her fault. For as long as I can remember, I too, have struggled; mixing digits, turning numbers; directionally challenged…. Once, years ago, not long after Bill and I were married, I once drove 25 miles out of the way, driving home alone from the grocery store! Way back then, we were a young couple in a new city. That sense of not-knowing scared me. Now, thirty years out? I have learned to deal. After all, the tendency has surfaced so many times, for so long…. Now, its something we all joke about with each other. “No, Mom,” they say, “you don’t have to drive. We’ll lead you.”
I’m thankful I can ask. I’m thankful for family. Additionally, I’m deeply grateful for community. Because, even though I keep maps in my car; several of my friends continue to be kind enough to answer their cell phones and take the time to provide me a running-feed of control-tower encouragement as I search for the right road. I’ve become really good at U-turns; even the 3, 4, 5 and 6-point types of turns…. (Just a note: This year, my favorite Christmas gift was the GPS our children gave me. It’s great! — it has even helped my prayer life! If I need to travel to a new place, I pull it out. Then I pray the sky isn’t too cloudy to find a signal….)
Mixed directions. Misunderstood signals. It seemed natural when the girls were smaller, to find different ways to communicate what they needed to learn. For example, when they were learning to set the table, we didn’t tell them the fork went on the right (I mean left!) — Instead, we drew a template and asked them to copy it with the dishes. When we passed food during Family Table, we would point in the desired direction and say, “Pass the bread that way.” And guess what? It worked. Our girls learned. We connected. The table got set; the bread was passed.
As I’ve been working on the worksheets for teaching couples to bond, I’ve found myself thinking this week about my own sense of being directionally challenged, and what it has taught me about bonding issues. Those places within each of us where we are still waiting for bonding to occur — those are the areas where our conflicts take place. Those are the areas where we have developed false strength.
Those are the areas where the signal isn’t clear; “left” doesn’t really mean “left” to us — And even though we work hard, using the same minimal tools we have always used – it doesn’t seem to “click.” I’ve had parents explain this away, by saying, “If my child never had it, they don’t know it’s missing, and that’s okay.” If you have thought that way, let me ask you to follow that kind of thinking to its conclusion, and consider an equivalent statement:
“My child never grew a right arm, but it’s okay. They’re not handicapped. They have the same abilities as everyone else.”
Such a statement isn’t true, is it?
I’m sure we’ll discuss this more at a later point, because it is where I am in the learning process of helping people heal right now…. Just let me say that bonding gaps cause us to develop wrong perceptions about who we are; places where have chosen to live our lives alone. Usually, these are the empty places, left unaddressed in us, for one reason or another. Used to being alone, we choose to survive alone; not choosing community; figuring it out by ourselves.
Such independence does not make us stronger, it just gets us lost… like me on new roads without a GPS– only refusing to make a phone call. We become like explorers without a compass. When this independence happens within a marriage, it transends into parenting; and our children do not receive the emotional tools they need. How can they?
We cannot give to them, what we don’t have — Or teach them what we haven’t learned ourselves.
The Solution for our bonding needs is presented in our Heavenly Father. He is God — He is the One who made us, who loves us, who chooses us to be His — no matter what. He is the Only God, and He speaks every language. He knows every bonding deficit.
The moment we open to receive His love — He begins the process — He will do whatever it takes to connect with you. That is why He came in the form of Jesus Christ.
If that seems a little scary right now, then, at the very least, begin opening your life to those you love. Admit your weaknesses. Ask for help. Then, look around. Let me encourage you to find a solid group of real believers in Christ who believe in the value of community; Safe people, who will let you fail as you learn.
God isn’t about religion — He is about relationship; and it’s not anything you can earn by keeping a set of rules, or acting a certain way.
He just loves you, and wants you to get the right signals.
(C)2010 DG — Awakened To Grow . Duplication without permission prohibited.
Like when our Rachel was learning to drive. That learning activity was something Bill did with her, and I observed from the back seat. Not having my husband’s great depth perception, my observations many times came with involuntary drawing-ins of air, and the universal-Mom’s invisible-brake pedal.
“Turn left at the next street, honey,” Bill instructed, during one of her early lessons. Now mind you, I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t do exactly what her father told her. Up until that point, she had done rather well, staying between the lines; braking slowly, accelerating respectfully –
During moments like those you learn lessons about your children. Why is it we remember those moments of surprise so well?Perhaps because we are vulnerable; especially when they are driving. After all, they have the steering wheel! That particular driving lesson, we arrived at the left-turn corner in question, and Rachel drove past it, never slowing.
“Why didn’t you turn?” her father asked, watching not only the road-sign, but the purpose of our outing — the Wendy’s and their large Frosty — pass into rear-view.
“You said, ‘turn left,‘ Dad,” she responded, keeping her eyes on the road. “I will when we get there.”
Bill and I exchanged glances. What was she saying?
“We did get there,” I said. “Why didn’t you turn?”
“M- ah-m!” She sighed her reply, using the fifteen-year-old voice that only daughters-who-have-been-daughters, of mothers-who-are-being-mothers would recognize. At the next corner, Rachel began putting one hand over another, turning the steering wheel.
Her dad and I found ourselves laughing. Out loud.
“What?” she asked, looking at us. Her father’s eyes were twinkling as he responded. “Must be your other left, Rach,” was all he said, as the car made a right-hand turn.
From her earliest years, our daughter has mixed her directions. (I could write a book here, but I don’t want to get off track….) When she was five, we tried everything, from making an “L” with the “left” hand, to memory games. We even did the drill: “My left makes an ‘L’ and I write with my right.” She tried hard; even to the point of frustration. The knowledge just didn’t ”stick.” (Bear in mind that these days she is a gifted wedding photographer! And even back then she was designing wedding dresses and evening gowns.)
She just couldn’t remember which side was left, and which side was right!
For the sake of the story, I should tell you: I know exactly where the weakness in Rachel’s personal navigation system came from. It wasn’t her fault. For as long as I can remember, I too, have struggled; mixing digits, turning numbers; directionally challenged…. Once, years ago, not long after Bill and I were married, I once drove 25 miles out of the way, driving home alone from the grocery store! Way back then, we were a young couple in a new city. That sense of not-knowing scared me. Now, thirty years out? I have learned to deal. After all, the tendency has surfaced so many times, for so long…. Now, its something we all joke about with each other. “No, Mom,” they say, “you don’t have to drive. We’ll lead you.”
I’m thankful I can ask. I’m thankful for family. Additionally, I’m deeply grateful for community. Because, even though I keep maps in my car; several of my friends continue to be kind enough to answer their cell phones and take the time to provide me a running-feed of control-tower encouragement as I search for the right road. I’ve become really good at U-turns; even the 3, 4, 5 and 6-point types of turns…. (Just a note: This year, my favorite Christmas gift was the GPS our children gave me. It’s great! — it has even helped my prayer life! If I need to travel to a new place, I pull it out. Then I pray the sky isn’t too cloudy to find a signal….)
Mixed directions. Misunderstood signals. It seemed natural when the girls were smaller, to find different ways to communicate what they needed to learn. For example, when they were learning to set the table, we didn’t tell them the fork went on the right (I mean left!) — Instead, we drew a template and asked them to copy it with the dishes. When we passed food during Family Table, we would point in the desired direction and say, “Pass the bread that way.” And guess what? It worked. Our girls learned. We connected. The table got set; the bread was passed.
As I’ve been working on the worksheets for teaching couples to bond, I’ve found myself thinking this week about my own sense of being directionally challenged, and what it has taught me about bonding issues. Those places within each of us where we are still waiting for bonding to occur — those are the areas where our conflicts take place. Those are the areas where we have developed false strength.
Those are the areas where the signal isn’t clear; “left” doesn’t really mean “left” to us — And even though we work hard, using the same minimal tools we have always used – it doesn’t seem to “click.” I’ve had parents explain this away, by saying, “If my child never had it, they don’t know it’s missing, and that’s okay.” If you have thought that way, let me ask you to follow that kind of thinking to its conclusion, and consider an equivalent statement:
“My child never grew a right arm, but it’s okay. They’re not handicapped. They have the same abilities as everyone else.”
Such a statement isn’t true, is it?
I’m sure we’ll discuss this more at a later point, because it is where I am in the learning process of helping people heal right now…. Just let me say that bonding gaps cause us to develop wrong perceptions about who we are; places where have chosen to live our lives alone. Usually, these are the empty places, left unaddressed in us, for one reason or another. Used to being alone, we choose to survive alone; not choosing community; figuring it out by ourselves.
Such independence does not make us stronger, it just gets us lost… like me on new roads without a GPS– only refusing to make a phone call. We become like explorers without a compass. When this independence happens within a marriage, it transends into parenting; and our children do not receive the emotional tools they need. How can they?
We cannot give to them, what we don’t have — Or teach them what we haven’t learned ourselves.
The Solution for our bonding needs is presented in our Heavenly Father. He is God — He is the One who made us, who loves us, who chooses us to be His — no matter what. He is the Only God, and He speaks every language. He knows every bonding deficit.
The moment we open to receive His love — He begins the process — He will do whatever it takes to connect with you. That is why He came in the form of Jesus Christ.
If that seems a little scary right now, then, at the very least, begin opening your life to those you love. Admit your weaknesses. Ask for help. Then, look around. Let me encourage you to find a solid group of real believers in Christ who believe in the value of community; Safe people, who will let you fail as you learn.
God isn’t about religion — He is about relationship; and it’s not anything you can earn by keeping a set of rules, or acting a certain way.
He just loves you, and wants you to get the right signals.
(C)2010 DG — Awakened To Grow . Duplication without permission prohibited.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Welcome!!
The family table is a big deal in our house. We sit for hours sometimes; going from preparing a meal, to enjoying the meal, to clean-up, to dessert, to games afterwards. I love it when the house is filled with people; and laughter! And it gets loud too!
Bill and I have been married for 30 years now; our kids are grown. But we still seem to have those “family table times.” When we set a time and date for a family table, everyone RSVP’s like its a special event… even if it’s just pizza…
Bill and I pastor a church (did I tell you that?) We have worked as a team since 1980…. He’s now a doctoral student (soon to graduate — that’s been a journey all its own). I help with worship, and work as a family counselor. We’ve enjoyed this journey….
This blog is to written to invite you to our family table. During the years our children were in development, our family table was the place where the issues of living would surface. The girls would ask a question. Their friends would ask a question. We would answer. Discussion would continue, many times with laughter and discovery. Sometimes, a conflict would occur during their day, and we would sort it out together — at the table — working through pain to find healing, growth and personal identity.
Over the years, I have learned that lessons and healing happen around the table. Additionally, something spiritual always enters the mix when we connect over food. This kind of bonding has to have been God’s idea.
As a counselor, I have discovered that the concept of a family table is foreign in many homes. If that has been in the case in your own life, please — allow me to invite you to this one.
Of late, now in my fifties, I’ve been looking back on the pathway Abba Father has been leading me on since I was three. And, in the midst of learning lessons about life, about relationships, about God, about myself and others….. I want to invite you to the table. Come and share these lessons with me.
If you would like to, please feel invited to add your own responses. Let’s connect and make the journey! Blessings!
Thanks for reading!
Bill and I have been married for 30 years now; our kids are grown. But we still seem to have those “family table times.” When we set a time and date for a family table, everyone RSVP’s like its a special event… even if it’s just pizza…
Bill and I pastor a church (did I tell you that?) We have worked as a team since 1980…. He’s now a doctoral student (soon to graduate — that’s been a journey all its own). I help with worship, and work as a family counselor. We’ve enjoyed this journey….
This blog is to written to invite you to our family table. During the years our children were in development, our family table was the place where the issues of living would surface. The girls would ask a question. Their friends would ask a question. We would answer. Discussion would continue, many times with laughter and discovery. Sometimes, a conflict would occur during their day, and we would sort it out together — at the table — working through pain to find healing, growth and personal identity.
Over the years, I have learned that lessons and healing happen around the table. Additionally, something spiritual always enters the mix when we connect over food. This kind of bonding has to have been God’s idea.
As a counselor, I have discovered that the concept of a family table is foreign in many homes. If that has been in the case in your own life, please — allow me to invite you to this one.
Of late, now in my fifties, I’ve been looking back on the pathway Abba Father has been leading me on since I was three. And, in the midst of learning lessons about life, about relationships, about God, about myself and others….. I want to invite you to the table. Come and share these lessons with me.
If you would like to, please feel invited to add your own responses. Let’s connect and make the journey! Blessings!
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
suitcase latches
It was a Samsonite case; a good one -- and a bargain too! Just $5 at a gargage sale. Not bad for a hardshell suitcase.. it was a perfect match for a poor college student....
That semester, more than forty of us travelled on the ministry tour. (Almost double the norm -- if I remember properly.) Thing was, there was limited room in the storage compartments in the lower levels in the bus. Our ministry team needed room in the luggage area of the bus for musical instruments and sound equipment. So, our director had limited each of us to one suitcase. (Not to complain, but do you know how difficult it is to keep what you need to only one case, when you're only twenty years old? And female? For me it was nearly impossible....)
And then, there were the extenuating circumstances... ( host homes, outlet malls on the highway, etc.) When one travels, one finds oneself -- -- how shall we put it? .... acquiring. Its kind of like that junk drawer in the kitchen. You know the one: you open it, and the contents explode. (Does anybody even like that drawer?)
Well, by the time we were half-way through that January tour, it became necessary for me to sit on the suitcase, bouncing on it, over and over again; squeezing the poor thing closed each morning. The task became more and more difficult as we travelled along. Close to the end of the month, my host home was gracious enough to take me to the store to purchase duct tape. After all, my poor suitcase only had to make it through a few more days. Sadly, that was the day the $5 bargain latches failed. That was the day the case popped open, spewing forth my unmentionables and dirty laundry all over the church parking lot.
It was a very spiritual moment. Honest. Well maybe not......
Which brings me to a discovery I made not long ago . Over a period of time, I had become increasingly aware of a repeating frustration in my heart. Busy continually, I thought I was moving forward. There was a degree of satisfaction in my day-to-day rituals. But, at the end of the day, barbed thoughts nagged the back of my mind. In fact, those very expectations began to intimidate me; wearing me down. After a season of days, I felt guilty over "all the things" I was "not doing."
Not doing? All of my moments were filled. The collections of my days were compressed.
Not doing? Simply put: there simply was no time.
So I sat down and made a list of all of the silent expectations I felt were looming over me, pointing their accusing finger. I share it here:
"Get up earlier. You'll be able to accomplish more. You'll feel better about yourself."
"Get more exercise.... 20-30 minutes, three times a week."
"Prepare all of your meals from scratch; processed foods can hurt you."
"You need to communicate more completely."
"Make longer and more detailed lists so you don't forget."
"Be in church every time the doors are open. It's important to show your committment."
"Send hand-written thank you notes."
"Take vitamins, and minerals every morning."
"Prepare protein drinks and make sure to take your greens every morning."
"Buy raw and organic foods."
"Buy a juicer. Your body will then absorb the nutrients missing in the foods you eat."
"Make telephone calls instead of writing emails. People need personal contact."
"Keep exercising. Sculpt that body."
"Read the Bible every day, at least one chapter; more... no matter what."
"Memorize a Bible verse each week."
"Show your employer you are a good worker. Stop being late to meetings."
"Be diligent, always energetic and upbeat."
"Journal. Every day -- your thoughts, feelings, discoveries."
"Keep track of everything God says to you."
"Keep your environments organized. Emulations of "pack-rat-ivity" are not allowed."
"Be hospitable. Entertain your neighbors; open your house, your heart, and your home."
"Read at least one book a month. Maybe two."
"Volunteer to serve. You need to do something outside yourself."
"Pursue a project or a hobby. Expand your knowledge."
"Stay current with the news; remain politically savvy. Research the issues to protect yourself."
"Keep your cupboards and closets organized; your silverware organized; your home organized."
"Talk through the deep issues of life with your spouse."
"Don't live on the surface."
"Keep exercising."
"Pray every day, for at least 30 minutes. Prayer is first foundation in a life of a disciple."
"Enroll in a class. Keep your mind active and developing."
"You can get it all done if you just stay up a few more hours." "You can make up the sleep hours later."
After the list was finished, I read back over these items, now known as the "Shoulds-List." Writing all of those thoughts down had helped to uncover something seeking to hide itself behind other labels in my life. In actuality, a sense of false guilt, or shame, had been speaking to me; holding up fiery hoops of expectation for me to jump through.
After the discovery, I thought I'd have a little fun with the list. Considering each one, I assigned a required length of time to the activities listed. The discovery I made was amazing. In order to satisfy the "Shoulds-List," I would need an additional five hours each day.
No wonder I was tired.
Each of us on the planet has a "Shoulds-List." We drag it along like my over-stuffed suitcase, as we make our personal Life-tour. We regularly struggle to squeeze everything back into its confines, hoping the "dirty laundry" doesn't pop out at the wrong time. But we're human. And sometimes, it just does. Sometimes, we just bolster ourselves. We pick up our bootstraps, and grab something to keep the cover on... By the way, do they even make emotional duct tape?
After a season, however, we have difficulty getting that latch to close. Overwhelmed, we become frustrated. "I'll just get up a little earlier," we tell ourselves, or, "I just need to work a little harder."
In the Bible, Psalm 127 says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows; for He (God) gives His beloved sleep." (NKJV)
You are....... we are......... beloved. Beloved!!
If you are struggling with your God-relationship; if you have thought you had to somehow do more, or be more in order to gain His approval and acceptance; this is the time to allow the Holy Spirit to take you off the hook.
You see, our Heavenly Father never drives us. He doesn't push. He doesn't pull. He holds no hoops for us to jump through. He does not expect us to "find the hidden formula." (And just for the record -- He's not mad at you, either. Take it from me.... Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn't really know His character.) He is the God who leads. The Greek language calls Him the "Parakletos" -- the Helper/Teacher who walks alongside....
So let me ask you something.... What's on your personal "Shoulds-List?" If you need a place to start, you could look at the list I provided here of the thought patterns I struggled with. Ask God to help you let go of them. He wants to breathe His Peace, His Mercy and His Healing into the "shoulds" in your life. You already make Him happy.
You are beloved.
(C)2010 -- DG - Awakened to Grow
That semester, more than forty of us travelled on the ministry tour. (Almost double the norm -- if I remember properly.) Thing was, there was limited room in the storage compartments in the lower levels in the bus. Our ministry team needed room in the luggage area of the bus for musical instruments and sound equipment. So, our director had limited each of us to one suitcase. (Not to complain, but do you know how difficult it is to keep what you need to only one case, when you're only twenty years old? And female? For me it was nearly impossible....)
And then, there were the extenuating circumstances... ( host homes, outlet malls on the highway, etc.) When one travels, one finds oneself -- -- how shall we put it? .... acquiring. Its kind of like that junk drawer in the kitchen. You know the one: you open it, and the contents explode. (Does anybody even like that drawer?)
Well, by the time we were half-way through that January tour, it became necessary for me to sit on the suitcase, bouncing on it, over and over again; squeezing the poor thing closed each morning. The task became more and more difficult as we travelled along. Close to the end of the month, my host home was gracious enough to take me to the store to purchase duct tape. After all, my poor suitcase only had to make it through a few more days. Sadly, that was the day the $5 bargain latches failed. That was the day the case popped open, spewing forth my unmentionables and dirty laundry all over the church parking lot.
It was a very spiritual moment. Honest. Well maybe not......
Which brings me to a discovery I made not long ago . Over a period of time, I had become increasingly aware of a repeating frustration in my heart. Busy continually, I thought I was moving forward. There was a degree of satisfaction in my day-to-day rituals. But, at the end of the day, barbed thoughts nagged the back of my mind. In fact, those very expectations began to intimidate me; wearing me down. After a season of days, I felt guilty over "all the things" I was "not doing."
Not doing? All of my moments were filled. The collections of my days were compressed.
Not doing? Simply put: there simply was no time.
So I sat down and made a list of all of the silent expectations I felt were looming over me, pointing their accusing finger. I share it here:
"Get up earlier. You'll be able to accomplish more. You'll feel better about yourself."
"Get more exercise.... 20-30 minutes, three times a week."
"Prepare all of your meals from scratch; processed foods can hurt you."
"You need to communicate more completely."
"Make longer and more detailed lists so you don't forget."
"Be in church every time the doors are open. It's important to show your committment."
"Send hand-written thank you notes."
"Take vitamins, and minerals every morning."
"Prepare protein drinks and make sure to take your greens every morning."
"Buy raw and organic foods."
"Buy a juicer. Your body will then absorb the nutrients missing in the foods you eat."
"Make telephone calls instead of writing emails. People need personal contact."
"Keep exercising. Sculpt that body."
"Read the Bible every day, at least one chapter; more... no matter what."
"Memorize a Bible verse each week."
"Show your employer you are a good worker. Stop being late to meetings."
"Be diligent, always energetic and upbeat."
"Journal. Every day -- your thoughts, feelings, discoveries."
"Keep track of everything God says to you."
"Keep your environments organized. Emulations of "pack-rat-ivity" are not allowed."
"Be hospitable. Entertain your neighbors; open your house, your heart, and your home."
"Read at least one book a month. Maybe two."
"Volunteer to serve. You need to do something outside yourself."
"Pursue a project or a hobby. Expand your knowledge."
"Stay current with the news; remain politically savvy. Research the issues to protect yourself."
"Keep your cupboards and closets organized; your silverware organized; your home organized."
"Talk through the deep issues of life with your spouse."
"Don't live on the surface."
"Keep exercising."
"Pray every day, for at least 30 minutes. Prayer is first foundation in a life of a disciple."
"Enroll in a class. Keep your mind active and developing."
"You can get it all done if you just stay up a few more hours." "You can make up the sleep hours later."
After the list was finished, I read back over these items, now known as the "Shoulds-List." Writing all of those thoughts down had helped to uncover something seeking to hide itself behind other labels in my life. In actuality, a sense of false guilt, or shame, had been speaking to me; holding up fiery hoops of expectation for me to jump through.
After the discovery, I thought I'd have a little fun with the list. Considering each one, I assigned a required length of time to the activities listed. The discovery I made was amazing. In order to satisfy the "Shoulds-List," I would need an additional five hours each day.
No wonder I was tired.
Each of us on the planet has a "Shoulds-List." We drag it along like my over-stuffed suitcase, as we make our personal Life-tour. We regularly struggle to squeeze everything back into its confines, hoping the "dirty laundry" doesn't pop out at the wrong time. But we're human. And sometimes, it just does. Sometimes, we just bolster ourselves. We pick up our bootstraps, and grab something to keep the cover on... By the way, do they even make emotional duct tape?
After a season, however, we have difficulty getting that latch to close. Overwhelmed, we become frustrated. "I'll just get up a little earlier," we tell ourselves, or, "I just need to work a little harder."
In the Bible, Psalm 127 says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows; for He (God) gives His beloved sleep." (NKJV)
You are....... we are......... beloved. Beloved!!
If you are struggling with your God-relationship; if you have thought you had to somehow do more, or be more in order to gain His approval and acceptance; this is the time to allow the Holy Spirit to take you off the hook.
You see, our Heavenly Father never drives us. He doesn't push. He doesn't pull. He holds no hoops for us to jump through. He does not expect us to "find the hidden formula." (And just for the record -- He's not mad at you, either. Take it from me.... Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn't really know His character.) He is the God who leads. The Greek language calls Him the "Parakletos" -- the Helper/Teacher who walks alongside....
So let me ask you something.... What's on your personal "Shoulds-List?" If you need a place to start, you could look at the list I provided here of the thought patterns I struggled with. Ask God to help you let go of them. He wants to breathe His Peace, His Mercy and His Healing into the "shoulds" in your life. You already make Him happy.
You are beloved.
(C)2010 -- DG - Awakened to Grow
gaskets and hoses
I love my car -- really. Well, I'm thankful that I have a car. More than being grateful for the vehicle, I guess what I should say is that I'm thankful for my hubby; indefatigable man that he is. I know this because we have remodelled a house together, built a church together, remodelled another church,.... you get the idea.
Well, about a year ago, he was out of town for a class; he's a doctoral student. (I think I mentioned that somewhere.) While he was away, he delegated to me the job of purchasing a car. I know, I know, I hear you. But it wasn't like that. No. Really, it wasn't. We had looked for weeks - together. He had done the leg work, and wanted me to look the car over. A mechanic, who was a friend, or should I say, used to be a friend, had gleaned the best of two used Hondas and merged them together to create what we hoped would prove to be a hybrid. It was affordable, and it was available -- what could be better?
Bill must have forgotten that I know as much about picking a car as I do about football. (I've watched it for years, I just don't get it.)
Our friend had taken a car with a blown engine, and replaced it's get-up-and-go with the motor from a Honda with a trashed frame -- 121,000 on the good frame; 81,000 on the good engine. Such a deal it was. Really it was. I keep telling myself that...
So now, here we are, a year later. Thanks to my husband's tenacity, and the kindness of our friends (one in particular who is an excellent mechanic -- not the other guy), I have a new car. Not the shiny kind. ..
Maybe we'll paint it.
The new car I refer to is my little Honda. Yes the very same. We now have a new air conditioning system, new brakes, new tires, new head gasket, all new hoses, a flushed radiator, a new lower control arm, new window motors and regulators, a new master cylinder, new fan motor control switch, a working window washer unit, all new spark plugs, new shocks and struts, and the list continues....
I've always liked lemonade..... did I say that out loud? I still do -- it's the south....
Not only that, but the "Cash for Klunkers" program didn't appeal to me. I just can't see taking our used cars to a dealership, who then would have to destroy them; unable to sell them just to comply with the program. It didn't seem right to me, or to Bill, that the steel in my little Honda then be sold to Japan or China to build their steel industries, while our American car auctions see a freeze in the market..... didn't seem right somehow.
So, I'll drive my little Honda til the wheels fall off. And I'll be grateful, really grateful, that I have a car, and no car payments. Come to think of it, maybe the first mechanic's idea of a secondary market wasn't all that off, after all. All she needed was a little love and tenacity. Those ingredients can fix just about anything.
Even marriages.
How long would you drive your car down the road with all the lights on the dashboard blinking? How far would you get if the temperature gauge pegged itself to "hot," and steam was coming out of the engine? And yet, many times, we think we can continue travelling blithely through life when the relationships in our lives are sending us glaring signals -- yet we wait until the motor seizes to do a tune-up.
If you are in such a place in any relationship in your life, let me make a suggestion to you. Considering the American culture, and the social networks within what we call the "Christian Culture," only one in four of those who are referred to a counselor actually follow through with seeking one out. Of that 25%, less than half will follow through with pursuing the healing that requires personal change. Knowing the stats on broken and blended families, what does that tell us about the emotional stability of our nation? And our level of actual spiritual maturity?
The inside is more important than the outside. Going through the rebuilding process with my little Honda has taught me that, yet again! It's made me love her more.
And most importantly? The radio works, and I can park her anywhere!!
(C)2010 DG -- awakenedtogrow.com
Well, about a year ago, he was out of town for a class; he's a doctoral student. (I think I mentioned that somewhere.) While he was away, he delegated to me the job of purchasing a car. I know, I know, I hear you. But it wasn't like that. No. Really, it wasn't. We had looked for weeks - together. He had done the leg work, and wanted me to look the car over. A mechanic, who was a friend, or should I say, used to be a friend, had gleaned the best of two used Hondas and merged them together to create what we hoped would prove to be a hybrid. It was affordable, and it was available -- what could be better?
Bill must have forgotten that I know as much about picking a car as I do about football. (I've watched it for years, I just don't get it.)
Our friend had taken a car with a blown engine, and replaced it's get-up-and-go with the motor from a Honda with a trashed frame -- 121,000 on the good frame; 81,000 on the good engine. Such a deal it was. Really it was. I keep telling myself that...
So now, here we are, a year later. Thanks to my husband's tenacity, and the kindness of our friends (one in particular who is an excellent mechanic -- not the other guy), I have a new car. Not the shiny kind. ..
Maybe we'll paint it.
The new car I refer to is my little Honda. Yes the very same. We now have a new air conditioning system, new brakes, new tires, new head gasket, all new hoses, a flushed radiator, a new lower control arm, new window motors and regulators, a new master cylinder, new fan motor control switch, a working window washer unit, all new spark plugs, new shocks and struts, and the list continues....
I've always liked lemonade..... did I say that out loud? I still do -- it's the south....
Not only that, but the "Cash for Klunkers" program didn't appeal to me. I just can't see taking our used cars to a dealership, who then would have to destroy them; unable to sell them just to comply with the program. It didn't seem right to me, or to Bill, that the steel in my little Honda then be sold to Japan or China to build their steel industries, while our American car auctions see a freeze in the market..... didn't seem right somehow.
So, I'll drive my little Honda til the wheels fall off. And I'll be grateful, really grateful, that I have a car, and no car payments. Come to think of it, maybe the first mechanic's idea of a secondary market wasn't all that off, after all. All she needed was a little love and tenacity. Those ingredients can fix just about anything.
Even marriages.
How long would you drive your car down the road with all the lights on the dashboard blinking? How far would you get if the temperature gauge pegged itself to "hot," and steam was coming out of the engine? And yet, many times, we think we can continue travelling blithely through life when the relationships in our lives are sending us glaring signals -- yet we wait until the motor seizes to do a tune-up.
If you are in such a place in any relationship in your life, let me make a suggestion to you. Considering the American culture, and the social networks within what we call the "Christian Culture," only one in four of those who are referred to a counselor actually follow through with seeking one out. Of that 25%, less than half will follow through with pursuing the healing that requires personal change. Knowing the stats on broken and blended families, what does that tell us about the emotional stability of our nation? And our level of actual spiritual maturity?
The inside is more important than the outside. Going through the rebuilding process with my little Honda has taught me that, yet again! It's made me love her more.
And most importantly? The radio works, and I can park her anywhere!!
(C)2010 DG -- awakenedtogrow.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
