A dear friend and I have begun a project of sorts. We are going to purposefully encourage one another to know God more, to focus on who He is and not what we do for Him, to invite Him into our everyday, to look for Him in the simple, the mundane, and the ordinary.
My friend is an ultra-planner. For our project, she probably already has a calendar written up, some spreadsheets with verses cross referenced, and some sort of color coded something all neatly tucked into a shiny three ring binder.
Me, not so much....but I am happy to report I do have a step one, and I am inviting you to join me.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
To be like Kathy
As most of you know, we have chickens. Yes, they were my son's idea and his project, but the silly birds have wormed their way into my heart and I enjoy feeding them.
For those of you who don't have chickens I'll explain what a morning feeding looks like. I walk into the pen, open up the hatch and out struts the rooster. He gives an indignant crow which seems to insinuate that I am late and then, as if on cue, the hens come spilling down the ramp like marbles from a jar. Ignoring the rooster, and working to not step on any hens, I walk into the coop, open up the food bin, and throw a few cupfuls to the waiting hoard below.
After this, I return to the bin and say good morning to Kathy, our one hen who does not follow the routine of the others, but instead waits inside. Kathy, who the second I turn my back, jumps inside the bin and begins helping herself to breakfast. Kathy, our one and only bird who isn't satisfied by having her food thrown at her but instead goes right to the source.
This morning (despite what the rooster thought) I was ahead of schedule and with the morning bright and the temps pleasant, I spent a bit more time with my little flock, watching some peck at the ground while Kathy yummed it up in the bin. As I watched their antics, I began thinking about the spiritual Jessica, contemplating if she is a Kathy or an outside waiting hen. Is she continually content to listen as the Word of God is thrown out to her, or does she dive right into the source, looking for the very best of truths. Is she satisfied by listening to others' words about her God, or does she seek Him, dive into Him on her own knowing that He alone is where the best is found.
In honesty, it's a question I haven't asked myself in some time. It's a question that gets muffled out by the busyness of life, brushed over as I go pecking about the ground. But it is a question worth questioning...then answering.
So there it is, and now how about you?
For those of you who don't have chickens I'll explain what a morning feeding looks like. I walk into the pen, open up the hatch and out struts the rooster. He gives an indignant crow which seems to insinuate that I am late and then, as if on cue, the hens come spilling down the ramp like marbles from a jar. Ignoring the rooster, and working to not step on any hens, I walk into the coop, open up the food bin, and throw a few cupfuls to the waiting hoard below.
After this, I return to the bin and say good morning to Kathy, our one hen who does not follow the routine of the others, but instead waits inside. Kathy, who the second I turn my back, jumps inside the bin and begins helping herself to breakfast. Kathy, our one and only bird who isn't satisfied by having her food thrown at her but instead goes right to the source.
This morning (despite what the rooster thought) I was ahead of schedule and with the morning bright and the temps pleasant, I spent a bit more time with my little flock, watching some peck at the ground while Kathy yummed it up in the bin. As I watched their antics, I began thinking about the spiritual Jessica, contemplating if she is a Kathy or an outside waiting hen. Is she continually content to listen as the Word of God is thrown out to her, or does she dive right into the source, looking for the very best of truths. Is she satisfied by listening to others' words about her God, or does she seek Him, dive into Him on her own knowing that He alone is where the best is found.
In honesty, it's a question I haven't asked myself in some time. It's a question that gets muffled out by the busyness of life, brushed over as I go pecking about the ground. But it is a question worth questioning...then answering.
So there it is, and now how about you?
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Uphill Friends
I have started running. I'm pretty sure the reason for this has something to do with turning 40, so let me just state, I despise running. Making matters worse, I live on a mountain so running consists of me dying most the time, with one particular hill I just can't conquer.
Enter my dog Truman, my loyal, Clifford of a dog who outweighs me by about 60 lbs and makes up for in strength what he lacks in intelligence. He's the perfect uphill friend as holding onto his leash makes the incline so much easier.
Last week, with Truman at my side, I took on the hill. About half way up I started to slow, ten more steps and I was about ready to keel over when all of a sudden Truman started motoring up the grade. It was as if he said, "Oh, no, we're beating this one. Just put one foot in front of the other, friend, and I'll pull. I'll pull you up."
Enter my dog Truman, my loyal, Clifford of a dog who outweighs me by about 60 lbs and makes up for in strength what he lacks in intelligence. He's the perfect uphill friend as holding onto his leash makes the incline so much easier.
Last week, with Truman at my side, I took on the hill. About half way up I started to slow, ten more steps and I was about ready to keel over when all of a sudden Truman started motoring up the grade. It was as if he said, "Oh, no, we're beating this one. Just put one foot in front of the other, friend, and I'll pull. I'll pull you up."
Monday, October 1, 2012
A God who Rises
Yesterday while in church, I watched a mini-sermon unfold a few rows in front of me.
The sermon began when I heard a child's cry from the nursery and watched as a young mom instantly changed her posture from relaxed to alert. Her neck seemed to get a bit longer, her head tilted ever so slightly bringing her ear closer to the noise. It was her baby, and she was ready to rise.
It was a living picture of one of my favorite verses, Isaiah 30:18, The Lord longs to be gracious to you, therefore He will rise up to show you compassion. Each time I hear this verse, I picture God being like me and my friends as young moms at McDonald's Playland. We'd hear a child cry and all of us would come to alert. Just like the mom in church, we'd begin to rise. Following this metaphor, I am in awe to again write, The Lord longs to be gracious to you, therefore He will rise up to show you compassion.
The God of creation rises for me. As if being raised for me wasn't enough, He now rises. He hears my cry, He rises (Psalm 34:18). He sees me fall, He rises (Deut 33:27). I'm not sure what the rest of my day holds, but my God will rise.
I don't know what you are facing today, but I pray for you all the same. I pray that whether you are playing happily or hurting with deeply scraped knees, you will claim and rest in the truth that Our God Rises. No matter how loud or soft our cry, no matter if we have caused our pain or are merely a victim of it, our God rises.
So there you have it, my Sunday morning sermon brought to me by a tender mom and her not so happy little one.
PS. And please don't tell my pastor he was upstaged by a one-year-old!
The sermon began when I heard a child's cry from the nursery and watched as a young mom instantly changed her posture from relaxed to alert. Her neck seemed to get a bit longer, her head tilted ever so slightly bringing her ear closer to the noise. It was her baby, and she was ready to rise.
It was a living picture of one of my favorite verses, Isaiah 30:18, The Lord longs to be gracious to you, therefore He will rise up to show you compassion. Each time I hear this verse, I picture God being like me and my friends as young moms at McDonald's Playland. We'd hear a child cry and all of us would come to alert. Just like the mom in church, we'd begin to rise. Following this metaphor, I am in awe to again write, The Lord longs to be gracious to you, therefore He will rise up to show you compassion.
The God of creation rises for me. As if being raised for me wasn't enough, He now rises. He hears my cry, He rises (Psalm 34:18). He sees me fall, He rises (Deut 33:27). I'm not sure what the rest of my day holds, but my God will rise.
I don't know what you are facing today, but I pray for you all the same. I pray that whether you are playing happily or hurting with deeply scraped knees, you will claim and rest in the truth that Our God Rises. No matter how loud or soft our cry, no matter if we have caused our pain or are merely a victim of it, our God rises.
So there you have it, my Sunday morning sermon brought to me by a tender mom and her not so happy little one.
PS. And please don't tell my pastor he was upstaged by a one-year-old!
Monday, September 24, 2012
Equal Oppurtunity Employment
This fall has brought a new season for me. My children are now all in school, our home remodeling venture is nearly complete, and I am no longer managing our family business. With this, I should be exhaling a sigh of relief. Sadly, not so much. I have been fretting, not relaxing.
With anxiety I have been asking 'What SHOULD I do with my days?" not excitedly wondering, "What WILL I do with my days?' Not "Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with this time," but "Oh no, I am wasting my time!"
With anxiety I have been asking 'What SHOULD I do with my days?" not excitedly wondering, "What WILL I do with my days?' Not "Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with this time," but "Oh no, I am wasting my time!"
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Of Field Trips and Singing
Yesterday I witnessed a tangible example of how we can change and affect our little worlds. It happened on a simple bus ride during my daughter's field trip.
To begin, it was the bus ride home. It was hot and everyone was tired. Gone was the excitement of what the day would hold, and now the idea of sitting three to a seat just didn't seem as tolerable as it had hours earlier. Unfortunately, about twenty-five minutes into the drive the bus hit construction, coming to a complete stand still.
To begin, it was the bus ride home. It was hot and everyone was tired. Gone was the excitement of what the day would hold, and now the idea of sitting three to a seat just didn't seem as tolerable as it had hours earlier. Unfortunately, about twenty-five minutes into the drive the bus hit construction, coming to a complete stand still.
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