Last night at Bible study we were discussing "Taking up our cross and following Jesus."
Meanwhile, our class is doing a bible study on Crazy Love and we came to the chapter that talks about truly giving up things of this world and doing the work of God. And as books sometimes do, they make us feel inadequate.
Many of us felt that based on what some people do, we could never measure up to that so we must not be doing enough.
Now, I know that I will never compare to some of the Saints of the world, but I would like to think that what little bit that I do try to do will be just as important, but maybe on a different level.
Something the preacher said that really made it all make since to me was this.
Grace is free, but the cost is everything.
We must be willing to give up anything that we put higher than God, and let him come first in our lives.
And what I have a passion for, may not be what you have a passion for, but that's OK, as long as we all have a passion.
So we shouldn't feel like we will never be good enough, or we can never do enough because without God's grace, we can't. But Thanks to him, we only need do what we can.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sometimes, I forget
Sometimes, I forget. I forget to Thank someone for something they did, or I get busy and think I can do it later. But later doesn't come.
A lot of times I forget to Thank God for all that I have. When I have a problem it seems like that is all I can focus on. My problem and how I can fix it, when I know in my heart, I can't fix anything. Only God can, and with that I remember to give Thanks.
I am thankful for my family, my faith, my friends, my church. I am truly blessed, but sometimes I forget.
Today I made it a point to Thank God for all my blessings.
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.
II Timothy 1:2
A lot of times I forget to Thank God for all that I have. When I have a problem it seems like that is all I can focus on. My problem and how I can fix it, when I know in my heart, I can't fix anything. Only God can, and with that I remember to give Thanks.
I am thankful for my family, my faith, my friends, my church. I am truly blessed, but sometimes I forget.
Today I made it a point to Thank God for all my blessings.
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.
II Timothy 1:2
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Listening/rambling
What does it mean to be lukewarm?
Are we trying to just do enough to get by? Or, do we really want to make a difference?
How much is enough?
How much is too much, I mean when do you say no?
I don't think anyone who truly loves the Lord wants to say no to something we feel he wants us to do, but how do we know?
I know that I don't do enough, I mean, I do what I can, but there are still times when I just know I could be doing more.
I wish that God still spoke to us in an audible voice like he did to Moses and Noah. Sometimes, when something is bothering me and I have been praying about it, I can't stop talking long enough to listen to what God might be trying to say.
I know you probably don't have that problem, but I do. When I start to pray, I have a hard time just listening.
I want to be better, so I know to get better I have to practice. Maybe practice isn't the word I am looking for, ummm, maybe I have to just be still and listen.
Sounds too simple doesn't it.
How do you listen to God?
Are we trying to just do enough to get by? Or, do we really want to make a difference?
How much is enough?
How much is too much, I mean when do you say no?
I don't think anyone who truly loves the Lord wants to say no to something we feel he wants us to do, but how do we know?
I know that I don't do enough, I mean, I do what I can, but there are still times when I just know I could be doing more.
I wish that God still spoke to us in an audible voice like he did to Moses and Noah. Sometimes, when something is bothering me and I have been praying about it, I can't stop talking long enough to listen to what God might be trying to say.
I know you probably don't have that problem, but I do. When I start to pray, I have a hard time just listening.
I want to be better, so I know to get better I have to practice. Maybe practice isn't the word I am looking for, ummm, maybe I have to just be still and listen.
Sounds too simple doesn't it.
How do you listen to God?
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Pray for flooding victims
If it weren't for the internet, I don't think I would realize how bad the flooding really is in Tennessee. I hope you will pray for the people who have lost their homes and their jobs.
If you are able, give to the Red Cross, if not Pray.
If you are able, give to the Red Cross, if not Pray.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
God Lives Under the Bed
I received this in an email today, and I thought it was worth sharing.
Thanks Rhonda.
GOD LIVES UNDER THE BED
I envy Kevin. My brother, Kevin, thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night.
He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, 'Are you there, God?' he said. 'Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed...'
I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.
He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult.
He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.
I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?
Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed.
The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.
He does not seem dissatisfied.
He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.
He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.
And Saturdays - oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. 'That one's goin' to Chi-car-go! ' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.
His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.
He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.
His life is simple.
He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.
His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.
He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.
He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.
He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.
Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God.
Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child.. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.
In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.
It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions.
It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.
Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.
And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.
Kevin won't be surprised at all!
When you receive this, say a prayer. That's all you have to do. There is nothing attached. This is powerful.
Thanks Rhonda.
GOD LIVES UNDER THE BED
I envy Kevin. My brother, Kevin, thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night.
He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, 'Are you there, God?' he said. 'Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed...'
I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.
He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult.
He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.
I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?
Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed.
The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.
He does not seem dissatisfied.
He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.
He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.
And Saturdays - oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. 'That one's goin' to Chi-car-go! ' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.
His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.
He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.
His life is simple.
He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.
His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.
He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.
He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.
He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.
Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God.
Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child.. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.
In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.
It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions.
It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.
Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.
And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.
Kevin won't be surprised at all!
When you receive this, say a prayer. That's all you have to do. There is nothing attached. This is powerful.
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