Friday, April 30, 2010

That's what I'll be willing to do.

For today, I'm reminding myself of some things. You can eavesdrop if you want.

I listen to Dr. Laura regularly because I love to hear people being told how to behave. One of the things she often says is that it's not important what you are feeling, but how you are behaving.

I need to hear that. A lot.

It's a good thing to remind myself because sometimes I want to behave out of how I feel instead of in spite of how I feel.

I feel hurt. I feel wronged. I feel frustrated. I just feel mad. I want to snap at people. I want to tell people off. I want to strike out at people. But I know better.

So do you know what I do? I get alone with God. I cross my arms across my chest and scowl like I did when I was six.  I tell Him that people are stupid. I tell Him that I'm mad. I tell Him it's not fair.

And He says, "I know."

So I ask what I should do.

And He says

"He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?"
Micah 6:8

It doesn't matter how I feel. It matters how I act.

For as long as I can remember, I have sung this chorus:

To be like Jesus
To be like Jesus
All I ask— to be like Him
All through life's journey
From earth to glory
All I ask— to be like Him.

So how can I be like Jesus? God says, "I'm glad you asked. I wrote about that, too."

"For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps: Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth: Who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously: Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls."
1 Peter 2:21-25

I should follow in His steps. I cannot tell you how many times since I committed that passage to memory that I quote the little phrase "but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously."

So I uncross my arms. I relax the scowl. I unball my fists. I drop my shoulders. And I surrender to the Shepherd and Bishop of my soul.

I sing another song I have sang for as long as I can remember.

Whatever It Takes by Lanny Wolfe
verse 1
There’s a voice calling me
From an old rugged tree
And His whispers draw closer to me
Leave this world far behind
There are new heights to climb
And a new place in me you will find

For whatever it takes to draw closer to you Lord
That’s what I’ll be willing to do
For whatever it takes to be more like you
That’s what I’ll be willing to do

verse 2
Take the dearest things to me
If that’s how it must be
To draw me closer to the
Let the disappointments come
Lonely days without the sun
If through sorrow more like you I become

For whatever it takes to draw closer to you Lord
That’s what I’ll be willing to d
For whatever it takes to be more like you
That’s what I’ll be willing to do
I’ll trade sunshine for rain
Comfort for pain
That’s what I’ll be willing to do
For whatever it takes for my will to break
That’s what I’ll be willing to do

That’s what I’ll be willing to do.

Monday, April 26, 2010

On Auto Pilot

The allergy season has been terrible everywhere. What's weird is that I've never suffered from allergies before but this year! Wow! It's made me really sick.

So I haven't done much of anything.

I haven't written much.

I haven't blogged at all.

I haven't sewn at all.

I haven't even crocheted.

I'll be glad when I feel better and I can do something.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Different Wave Lengths

Have you ever watched the face of a six-year-old boy when you tell him to make his sound effects in his head?

We are on completely different wave lengths.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

I want to

I want to cry. There are no tears.
I want to scream. There is no voice.
I want to faint. There is no one to catch me.
I want to sleep. There is no rest.
I want to lash out. My hands are bound.
I want to. I can't.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

According to the commandment…

"And the women also, which came with him from Galilee, followed after, and beheld the sepulchre, and how his body was laid. And they returned, and prepared spices and ointments; and rested the sabbath day according to the commandment."
Luke 23:55-56
He was gone. They watched as His body was laid in the sepulchre. The grief and confusion mingled in their hearts. But they went on. They prepared the spices and ointments to properly bury Him and they rested "according to the commandment." 

The faith of those women is inspiring. When I'm confused, sad, and overwhelmed I try to remember the women who followed Him. At the darkest hour of their lives, they did what they knew to be right. They rested.

Do I?

Thursday, April 1, 2010


I was born in Germany where Dad was stationed in the Air Force. We moved to the States when I was 2 and settled in West Texas where Dad was an instructor at Goodfellow Air Force Base. When my parents decided we needed to find a church, they found Baptist Temple because it had the same name as the church in Kansas City where they were married. I began my way through the children's classes.

The first day of the Beginners' Department, I joyfully marched in with all the other fresh four year olds to the big kids class. We sang new songs and divided up by age and gender to our own classrooms for the first time. I relished in the bright decorations on the walls and listened intently to a story told with pictures on a flannel board. I sat taller because I just knew I was so grown.

We were Sunday School attenders. My family went to Sunday School and the went home. We didn't go to the church services. But my new department teacher invited me to Children's church! I pestered and pestered until finally my parents started staying for the church service so I could go to Children's church.

On Palm Sunday in 1966, a bright-eyed five-year-old little girl listened intently while the teacher told the story of the crucifixion. I can still see the flannelgraph figure on my Jesus dying on the cross. For the very first time, my heart was pricked with conviction. He did that just for me… just to pay the penalty for my sin.

After church, that image burned in my mind. We ate lunch and went out to play. My little brother had several disabilities and I always helped him play. I was pushing him around the neighborhood on our green pedal tractor when he decided to stop and look at something. As he wandered off,  I rested on my knees behind that tractor and the conviction of the Cross flooded over me.

As a five-year-old little girl, I bowed my head there in the sunny April Sunday afternoon and asked Jesus to be my Savior. I ran in and told my mother and the next Sunday, Easter, after church my pastor knelt down to my level and for 20 minutes asked me questions about what I had done. I remember him standing and looking at my parents and saying, "She knows what she did and she understands."

Every April, as the newness of spring bursts forth around me, I remember the newness of salvation that I knew that April so long ago.

And I'm thankful.