“Sometimes our greatest gifts can be the quickest way to sin.”
Walking with my dear college roommate brings me great pleasure (not to mention a cute figure) but also challenges my thoughts and actions. She once reminded me that Satan can use what we’re most good at to lead us astray, even if that simply means forgetting about God. I hate to admit it, but I had a taste of that today.
A family from Congo relocated here last July after leaving several years of “captivity” as refugees in camp. Life was hard with two meals a day of rice and beans all year long and no scenery or familiar landscape a part from the red dirt that surrounded the dwelling. So a new life in America seemed like a wonderful new life. Now the mom and kids are but a week away from being homeless.
These realities come with several long stories complicated by government systems, mistranslation, a hard winter, little understanding of the USA, and just life. I have no desire to go into these situations for the wrongs and rights, blessings and disappointments, joys and heartaches are too numerous to explain. The fact remains that this family’s life is broken and most tragically by not knowing where they will lay their head come June.
But don’t worry- here I come to save the day. SPLAT!
As a pro-active, driven, solution oriented person all I want to do is fix this circumstance. The family needs a new apartment? Here’s an application. Oh, she needs a reference? Let me send that to her work. A co-signer is necessary? With the ability to back her financially? With a mortgage? Um…I. I. Let me think.
And HERE is where I remain, thinking. I cannot afford to be her co-signer. I cannot move her into my place. I cannot even guarantee another place for her to live in six days. I cannot.
So even though my skills of networking, problem solving, and providing remedies seemed so necessary and sufficient, I know now what my roommate was saying. These talents distracted me from seeking out and relying on God. Instead I began to worship an idol of power and call on the name of organizational crisis management to rule over this issue.
God has to be in control. I can do what I can, but I cannot be God. He will fix or mold or handle this situation. I can be obedient, but I cannot decide for God. He will not grow weary of details or negate his promises. I can be bold, but I cannot be the strength of God.
God created the earth in six days and he didn’t call me for floor plans, operations management, and strategy consulting or even to fill up his coffee cup. Thus I’m letting God’s talents, untouched or obstructed by Satan, bring about utter goodness.
And I’ll use my talents to follow his lead.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
The importance of seeing the Sunrise
I wasn’t under any obligation and received no other incentive beyond spending 30 minutes of a very early morning with a friend on the way to the airport.
But then the sun rose.
Seeing the sunrise post-daylight savings time in Spokane is a unique experience. At 5:03am the sherbet colors of pink and orange hues from morning light crept up on the horizon as I drove east on I-90. The few clouds floated with their blue cotton candy fluff. I felt like I arrived at a wonderful birthday party and my sweet-tooth found satisfaction.
The rest of Monday was marvelous: productive, fulfilling and thought provoking. Thus I am left to muse:
1) Is a 4:03 wake up time the answer?
2) How crucial is it to experience the sunrise?
3) What can I do to make everyday start out with a selfless act?
4) Can I remember that God offers is smile and sweetness all the daylong?
Just like the morning sun, I am realizing gradually that my growth and beauty and deep love for the world, which can shine as bright as the rays, comes day after day.
But then the sun rose.
Seeing the sunrise post-daylight savings time in Spokane is a unique experience. At 5:03am the sherbet colors of pink and orange hues from morning light crept up on the horizon as I drove east on I-90. The few clouds floated with their blue cotton candy fluff. I felt like I arrived at a wonderful birthday party and my sweet-tooth found satisfaction.
The rest of Monday was marvelous: productive, fulfilling and thought provoking. Thus I am left to muse:
1) Is a 4:03 wake up time the answer?
2) How crucial is it to experience the sunrise?
3) What can I do to make everyday start out with a selfless act?
4) Can I remember that God offers is smile and sweetness all the daylong?
Just like the morning sun, I am realizing gradually that my growth and beauty and deep love for the world, which can shine as bright as the rays, comes day after day.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
prepositions are in.
Tonight at church I became fixated on prepositions. These tiny words hold so much meaning and can offer an encouraging embrace or dismissing declaration. But the prepositions used in the Bible, especially concerning Jesus, brought great power and insight to me this evening.
In Christ Jesus: The place I can rest, find peace, experience direction and assurance, and know salvation. To be in him makes all the difference because outside of him, I’m lost. In the world is scary, difficult, and simply purposeless.
With Christ: My friend, guide, and partner in life. While I follow Jesus’ example and move physically on my own, Christ still gives me the power and breath to bring his hopes of heaven to earth. We’re co-workers.
For Christ: Thanksgiving. Service. My life. They’re all for him. I don’t need it for my own good, but he wants it all to use for my good and the good he wants on earth.
Beneath God: My authority. When I seek control and independence, I realize that I’m still beneath my Lord’s sovereignty. I’ve never seen this position as a dominating one, but instead a liberating one. I can do what is in my human ability to do, knowing God will take care of the rest.
Near God: Where I want to be. I often hear prayers that say, “Be with me, God.” I understand those sentiments and pleas, but I want to lean on God’s promise that he repeated over and over to his people. “Do not fear. I am with you.” So as God stands by me, I desire to know his nearness and remain there with courage and boldness.
I haven’t posted anything for several months. I’m not sure if it was because I fell IN love, came UP short WITH stories, found other priorities TO occupy my time, or just forgot the joy OF writing, but I’m back. Little words to begin but certainly not to end with.
In Christ Jesus: The place I can rest, find peace, experience direction and assurance, and know salvation. To be in him makes all the difference because outside of him, I’m lost. In the world is scary, difficult, and simply purposeless.
With Christ: My friend, guide, and partner in life. While I follow Jesus’ example and move physically on my own, Christ still gives me the power and breath to bring his hopes of heaven to earth. We’re co-workers.
For Christ: Thanksgiving. Service. My life. They’re all for him. I don’t need it for my own good, but he wants it all to use for my good and the good he wants on earth.
Beneath God: My authority. When I seek control and independence, I realize that I’m still beneath my Lord’s sovereignty. I’ve never seen this position as a dominating one, but instead a liberating one. I can do what is in my human ability to do, knowing God will take care of the rest.
Near God: Where I want to be. I often hear prayers that say, “Be with me, God.” I understand those sentiments and pleas, but I want to lean on God’s promise that he repeated over and over to his people. “Do not fear. I am with you.” So as God stands by me, I desire to know his nearness and remain there with courage and boldness.
I haven’t posted anything for several months. I’m not sure if it was because I fell IN love, came UP short WITH stories, found other priorities TO occupy my time, or just forgot the joy OF writing, but I’m back. Little words to begin but certainly not to end with.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
this just in...
Developments in a friend’s life can leave a person searching for the right sentiments. Am I supposed to be happy or sad, excited or nervous, honest or just superficial? If I know the person well, I’m as truthful as I can be which often matches his or her sentiments. When my friends hurt, I hurt and when they bounce off the walls, I’m a pinball with them.
Today I shared some exciting news with my friend Rosette from the Congo. I told her I was planning a trip to Africa next summer. She cried out with great joy and delight, but just as suddenly, her cries brought tears. I’ve only ever seen this transformation in the movies, and I think the actors were holding onions. Rosette held nothing back; she didn’t fake a countenance of pure elation. Instead, she internalized the news and what it meant to her. It meant that her home seemed even further away, only to be visited by those who could afford in every way with time, money, and the liberties of US citizenship to go across the ocean. Well, that put me in another frame of mind, praying a pipe-dream of a prayer that she could go see her home and family someday soon. With God anything is possible, but in that small apartment with laundry to fold and lunch to make, that dream didn’t seem all that realistic.
I’m grateful the Bible tells us to mourn with those who mourn and dance with those who dance. Sometimes, when I’m not in the mood I need to just act in obedience to what God asked me to do. Go alongside a person in whatever state he or she might be in at present. I seek to be genuine and honest with my emotions and responses to news, and hopefully where my sentiments fall short God will fill in the gap with his own comfort or confirmation of exaltation.
Beyond just comfort or a God-sized smile, though, I think the greatest gift is Jesus’ promise to be our peace. Both moments of sadness and joy can be coupled with fear and anxiety for what the future holds. Only through the peace of God can I faithfully step forward into the reality of new developments. His peace assures me that I have security and love in him; it’s not a peace from the world that might show happy faces but gossips behind the back. His peace assures me of my worth in his eyes and the value he holds in my friends, especially those who shout with cheer and cry all in one moment.
Today I shared some exciting news with my friend Rosette from the Congo. I told her I was planning a trip to Africa next summer. She cried out with great joy and delight, but just as suddenly, her cries brought tears. I’ve only ever seen this transformation in the movies, and I think the actors were holding onions. Rosette held nothing back; she didn’t fake a countenance of pure elation. Instead, she internalized the news and what it meant to her. It meant that her home seemed even further away, only to be visited by those who could afford in every way with time, money, and the liberties of US citizenship to go across the ocean. Well, that put me in another frame of mind, praying a pipe-dream of a prayer that she could go see her home and family someday soon. With God anything is possible, but in that small apartment with laundry to fold and lunch to make, that dream didn’t seem all that realistic.
I’m grateful the Bible tells us to mourn with those who mourn and dance with those who dance. Sometimes, when I’m not in the mood I need to just act in obedience to what God asked me to do. Go alongside a person in whatever state he or she might be in at present. I seek to be genuine and honest with my emotions and responses to news, and hopefully where my sentiments fall short God will fill in the gap with his own comfort or confirmation of exaltation.
Beyond just comfort or a God-sized smile, though, I think the greatest gift is Jesus’ promise to be our peace. Both moments of sadness and joy can be coupled with fear and anxiety for what the future holds. Only through the peace of God can I faithfully step forward into the reality of new developments. His peace assures me that I have security and love in him; it’s not a peace from the world that might show happy faces but gossips behind the back. His peace assures me of my worth in his eyes and the value he holds in my friends, especially those who shout with cheer and cry all in one moment.
Friday, October 1, 2010
I'll get sick, too.
Rosette, my friend from Burundi, asked “Why do people not visit one another when they are sick? They like to say ‘Oh you are sick. I will get sick, too.’ And they stay away. It is not like that in my country.”
I paused to gather my thoughts and decide whether the honest answer would highlight a virtue of Americans or make us look as odd as my friend seemed to think we were. I clarified that the generalization that all Americans avoid sick friends might be a stretch, but that her observation was keen. I think “we, in general,” avoid the sick because
1) We’re AFRAID of getting sick.
2) We believe the only way the other person will get better is with rest, not an INTERRUPTION from a visitor.
3) We don’t like to feel HELPLESS.
All of these “reasons” are a bit irrational when analyzed deeply. Headaches and 5 day old flu aren’t usually contagious. As much as rest is beneficial, a happy heart can be an even better cure. And as humans, not just Americans, we will be helpless at some point in our lives. Typically, we like to put our best foot forward and hate seeing others or being seen by others when we’re less than our best. Therefore, it’s just easier for everyone involved to stay away until everyone is back to equal health status.
My explanation didn’t suit Rosette though. “But when we’re sick, that’s when we need others the most to be involved and be with us, not to hide.” We both agreed that assuming what the sick people need is not always the best practice since deep down a sick person will want a friend but probably doesn’t have the energy, humility or foresight to offer an invitation stating such desires.
I thought about this question a lot today. With each rerun in my head, I realized my own role in this cultural faux pax as she saw it. Even worse, I’m not exactly sure how to respond. In a situation when a person is sick for a couple days, a dash to the store for a Gatorade and get well card is easy. But a lifetime of sick also demands attention. Perhaps bedside monitoring is too much, especially for a person who just wants to sleep. But something must be done because
1) I can’t catch it.
2) Interrupting life is inevitable.
3) Feeling helpless is not helpful, but being hopeful is.
A fine balance lies in the relationship of those who are sick and those who are well. Establishing a workable balance might happen for a while, but something will tip the scales on one side or the other. The assumptions made about what maintains the balance will also keep the relationship from finding true equilibrium.
Rosette’s observation clued me into a possible cultural defect. But I believe with the right amount of effort and selflessness, it can be and is worth repairing.
I paused to gather my thoughts and decide whether the honest answer would highlight a virtue of Americans or make us look as odd as my friend seemed to think we were. I clarified that the generalization that all Americans avoid sick friends might be a stretch, but that her observation was keen. I think “we, in general,” avoid the sick because
1) We’re AFRAID of getting sick.
2) We believe the only way the other person will get better is with rest, not an INTERRUPTION from a visitor.
3) We don’t like to feel HELPLESS.
All of these “reasons” are a bit irrational when analyzed deeply. Headaches and 5 day old flu aren’t usually contagious. As much as rest is beneficial, a happy heart can be an even better cure. And as humans, not just Americans, we will be helpless at some point in our lives. Typically, we like to put our best foot forward and hate seeing others or being seen by others when we’re less than our best. Therefore, it’s just easier for everyone involved to stay away until everyone is back to equal health status.
My explanation didn’t suit Rosette though. “But when we’re sick, that’s when we need others the most to be involved and be with us, not to hide.” We both agreed that assuming what the sick people need is not always the best practice since deep down a sick person will want a friend but probably doesn’t have the energy, humility or foresight to offer an invitation stating such desires.
I thought about this question a lot today. With each rerun in my head, I realized my own role in this cultural faux pax as she saw it. Even worse, I’m not exactly sure how to respond. In a situation when a person is sick for a couple days, a dash to the store for a Gatorade and get well card is easy. But a lifetime of sick also demands attention. Perhaps bedside monitoring is too much, especially for a person who just wants to sleep. But something must be done because
1) I can’t catch it.
2) Interrupting life is inevitable.
3) Feeling helpless is not helpful, but being hopeful is.
A fine balance lies in the relationship of those who are sick and those who are well. Establishing a workable balance might happen for a while, but something will tip the scales on one side or the other. The assumptions made about what maintains the balance will also keep the relationship from finding true equilibrium.
Rosette’s observation clued me into a possible cultural defect. But I believe with the right amount of effort and selflessness, it can be and is worth repairing.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
If I Could Blink
Transitions aren’t my forte. In fact, when I first moved to Spokane from Casper, the idea that driving to the other edge of town took longer than 10 minutes floored me. I was late to so many meetings. Downtown was a foreign country as far as I was concerned. I figured an encyclopedia on tape wouldn’t be long enough for the ride. Since those first days “off the ranch” I’ve learned to deal with commuting, transitions and all the stop and go that is implied to driving.
Today, I read a report from Rwanda published in Sept. 2010 that stops all adoptions until the country has been accepted under the rules of the Hague Convention. This is a worthy goal and I’m yet again impressed by this African country which stole my heart when I visited in 2009. And yet, this process that safeguards both adoptees and adopters can take a year or more to implement! That means that all children not already in the “pipeline” for adoption will just have to wait. Of course, people can always try to adopt in non-Convention countries or independently, but that’s even more of a logistical nightmare, not to mention an uncertainty in finalizing the adoption both in the Rwanda and America.
So here I am thinking about transitions again. Kids who desperately need homes can’t drive any faster, nor can their country in its efforts of due diligence. At first I thought this was a waste of time for the kids because they shouldn’t have to wait this long. What will change in that time? But perhaps the orphanages will improve their efforts and programs to fall into compliance with the Convention which would make life for those waiting all the better. This time might be used to promote the country, focus on in-country adoptions, and/or raise awareness.
Still I want Rwanda to be there, now. I don’t want to stop for the light. I want them to have a free pass to “GO” and move forward in making adoptions possible again. If I could blink, I would see this time flash by, this transition as a mere breath in time. But I can’t nor can I make any other transition move that quickly. So instead, I’m thinking outside the box. How can this or any transition bring life and be good in and of itself while we wait? Sometimes I listen to the news, journal about the process, plug in my iPod. These days I’m just praying. A silent drive. A silent transition. An opportunity for earth-shattering growth.
Today, I read a report from Rwanda published in Sept. 2010 that stops all adoptions until the country has been accepted under the rules of the Hague Convention. This is a worthy goal and I’m yet again impressed by this African country which stole my heart when I visited in 2009. And yet, this process that safeguards both adoptees and adopters can take a year or more to implement! That means that all children not already in the “pipeline” for adoption will just have to wait. Of course, people can always try to adopt in non-Convention countries or independently, but that’s even more of a logistical nightmare, not to mention an uncertainty in finalizing the adoption both in the Rwanda and America.
So here I am thinking about transitions again. Kids who desperately need homes can’t drive any faster, nor can their country in its efforts of due diligence. At first I thought this was a waste of time for the kids because they shouldn’t have to wait this long. What will change in that time? But perhaps the orphanages will improve their efforts and programs to fall into compliance with the Convention which would make life for those waiting all the better. This time might be used to promote the country, focus on in-country adoptions, and/or raise awareness.
Still I want Rwanda to be there, now. I don’t want to stop for the light. I want them to have a free pass to “GO” and move forward in making adoptions possible again. If I could blink, I would see this time flash by, this transition as a mere breath in time. But I can’t nor can I make any other transition move that quickly. So instead, I’m thinking outside the box. How can this or any transition bring life and be good in and of itself while we wait? Sometimes I listen to the news, journal about the process, plug in my iPod. These days I’m just praying. A silent drive. A silent transition. An opportunity for earth-shattering growth.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Out of Words
My friend wrote a blog with the same title. I have had an interesting problem with this reality though not for the same reasons as hers. But I feel like if we’re both in this boat, we can share a title. I need all the help I can get!
This week has been spent wishing I had a dictionary to point out the thoughts, phrases or simple nouns that I wanted to convey to various people. At track practice I couldn’t spit out or remember (hard to say whether the mind or the tongue was the culprit) the name of any drill. Thankfully muscle memory rarely fails me. Perhaps I should learn sign language… All that said (or unsaid) I was left moving my body to model what I wanted and using the ever so descriptive words such as “the whatchee” or “you know, This.”
Me: the Pulitzer Prize NON-contender.
Later I ran into situations when I couldn’t properly convey my thoughts and feelings without potentially saying the wrong thing that might hurt. Likewise, when I finally did string words together at an important moment, they came out in an unfortunate and embarrassing way. With such circumstances, I could cry, hoping the tears would spell out something articulate.
I recalled a song by Ben Glover, entitled “26 letters” which explains the limitation that 26 letters has on expressing emotion, hopes, fears, dreams, requests, and simple thanks. This particular song speaks of these actions as they apply to God.
26 letters is all I got
To tell You how I feel about You
26 letters and you know I'm never ever
Gonna write the perfect paragraph
I try to express
with adjectives of thankfulness
But, I don't know if I can do it
With 26 letters
And like Ben, I’m not sure I can handle 26 letters. Not that more letters would be helpful, as I can’t even remember the currently approved combinations. But perhaps like Ben, I realized that that which needs to be said holds such great weight, mere words or letters can’t bear it. What words fully express the gratitude for “being you”? What words truly reveal the desire and need for forgiveness of friends and God? What words offer the ample praise, glory and love that my God deserves?
I won’t stop trying to find the words. I quite like utilizing a vocabulary beyond simple pronouns and body movements. And I also realize after this week that words are precious, missed when not had and discouraging when used poorly.
This week has been spent wishing I had a dictionary to point out the thoughts, phrases or simple nouns that I wanted to convey to various people. At track practice I couldn’t spit out or remember (hard to say whether the mind or the tongue was the culprit) the name of any drill. Thankfully muscle memory rarely fails me. Perhaps I should learn sign language… All that said (or unsaid) I was left moving my body to model what I wanted and using the ever so descriptive words such as “the whatchee” or “you know, This.”
Me: the Pulitzer Prize NON-contender.
Later I ran into situations when I couldn’t properly convey my thoughts and feelings without potentially saying the wrong thing that might hurt. Likewise, when I finally did string words together at an important moment, they came out in an unfortunate and embarrassing way. With such circumstances, I could cry, hoping the tears would spell out something articulate.
I recalled a song by Ben Glover, entitled “26 letters” which explains the limitation that 26 letters has on expressing emotion, hopes, fears, dreams, requests, and simple thanks. This particular song speaks of these actions as they apply to God.
26 letters is all I got
To tell You how I feel about You
26 letters and you know I'm never ever
Gonna write the perfect paragraph
I try to express
with adjectives of thankfulness
But, I don't know if I can do it
With 26 letters
And like Ben, I’m not sure I can handle 26 letters. Not that more letters would be helpful, as I can’t even remember the currently approved combinations. But perhaps like Ben, I realized that that which needs to be said holds such great weight, mere words or letters can’t bear it. What words fully express the gratitude for “being you”? What words truly reveal the desire and need for forgiveness of friends and God? What words offer the ample praise, glory and love that my God deserves?
I won’t stop trying to find the words. I quite like utilizing a vocabulary beyond simple pronouns and body movements. And I also realize after this week that words are precious, missed when not had and discouraging when used poorly.
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