Once a week. Only at church. I like my church and I like the people inside it. I even have a general idea where many of them live, but I have only seen the inside of a couple of their homes because, like most of the churches we have attended in our 40 years of marriage, members seldom get together in each others' homes unless they are related. We are friendly, but we are busy. And we are not living in the supportive interdependence believers are supposed to have. There is not time in the "handshake" interlude to share struggles with money or marriage, anger or pain, besetting sins or emptiness. There is not time to be anything other than "fine" on Sunday morning. Our outsides are all fine, but God is not terribly interested in our outsides.
Some of us women have been exploring ideas for ways to motivate the church from being a fine place, to the real place God intended it to be. Recently I have joined some women in our church in a prayer group for those who are fine with not being fine. Tears welcome. No masks required. And we pray in a home. We pray for our prodigals. We confess our fears, our feelings of failure, and our unfailing love for them. And that is just one of many areas of need. We need to visit the lonely and sick, the grieving, frazzled new moms, the discouraged. We need to bring a casserole, a smile, listening ears, encouragement. And we cannot do all that on a fine Sunday morning. We, the church, must find a way to match those walking a dark path with those who have come through one and know that it leads to a walk that is deeper, richer and too wonderful to be merely fine.
Monday, October 30, 2017
My Un"proved" Bible
It was with much reluctance that I recently replaced my quarter century old Bible with a new one. But when I was studying Exodus this summer, the cat stepped on it. (I don't know how evolutionists explain why cats have an irresistible drive to come between humans and their reading material. As a creationist, I think it's a lesser known result of the Fall of Man--the Fall of Cat.) I knew my Bible was worn, but ever since the cat event, Exodus has been exiting page by page. Isn't that ironic? At the risk of sounding like my husband describing a gun, I liked my Thompson chain reference NIV with maps and archeological supplement, but thought buying a less familiar version might re-energize my study. I hoped it would help me dig a little deeper, instead of just thinking about digging deeper. I decided to get a side-by-side NIV Amplified, 357 long barrel with a scope. Just kidding about the last part, the Bible is a sword, not a gun.
The package arrived from Christian Book Distributors, but I was having a hard time making myself use it--kind of like young David who was reluctant to fight Goliath wearing Saul's armor because he hadn't "proved" it. Or people who buy a new car, but are afraid to take it out of the garage. But I have made a start, and as our pastor cites different references during the sermon, I find myself checking out the Amplified version. Putting a toe in the living water, so to speak. I was relieved to discover my new Bible didn't have maps and many of the other helps of my old one, so I have an excuse to keep it close at hand. I am still at the stage where finding references in my new Bible feels like a "sword drill", which I am losing. But once I have "proved" it, I am sure it will be as well loved as its predecessors. After all, the Bible has proved itself in every time, place, language and occasion in which a Sword is needed.
The package arrived from Christian Book Distributors, but I was having a hard time making myself use it--kind of like young David who was reluctant to fight Goliath wearing Saul's armor because he hadn't "proved" it. Or people who buy a new car, but are afraid to take it out of the garage. But I have made a start, and as our pastor cites different references during the sermon, I find myself checking out the Amplified version. Putting a toe in the living water, so to speak. I was relieved to discover my new Bible didn't have maps and many of the other helps of my old one, so I have an excuse to keep it close at hand. I am still at the stage where finding references in my new Bible feels like a "sword drill", which I am losing. But once I have "proved" it, I am sure it will be as well loved as its predecessors. After all, the Bible has proved itself in every time, place, language and occasion in which a Sword is needed.
Now You See It, Now You Don't
Sovereignty is an attribute of God and therefore constant and unchanging but, from my human perspective, it is sometimes hard to see. Hence this title. But last week I saw it plainly. After 20 years of living with a gravel driveway, we have been blessed with an opportunity to get it paved. I confess I have long been guilty of breaking the 10th commandment--coveting my neighbors' asphalt. For one thing, the snow melts off their blacktop days before it melts off our gravel. And twice last winter our snowblower was damaged when it picked up one of the larger driveway stones. So we were very excited about the prospect of a driveway that melts ice and no longer casts the first stone, or any stone.
And we have had a long time to be excited about it, because paving contractors are even harder to catch sight of than sovereignty. Two of the three we called came out right away to do estimates. The third, the one with the best reputation, discount coupons, and radio advertisements, did not return any of our calls. If you are not going to return calls, you might as well offer a big discount. The company with the lowest bid does answer their phone, but is continually mystified that no one has called us with a date for actually installing the asphalt. Until last Wednesday. They called my husband to let him know they were prepared to pave that afternoon. But we were not prepared. Reed was at work, I would not be home for a couple hours, and we had two cars to move, one for which we would need to locate keys. Besides that, Reed wanted to replace the split ties that line the driveway and make a small revision in its shape. We rescheduled for the next week.
Meanwhile, one of our local radio stations was holding their semi-annual Gambler's sale. Products are listed at full price, but the percentage of discount increases throughout the week. The discount reaches 50 percent by the end of the week, but the goods or service you want may no longer be available. That's why it's a gamble. When Paveco finally called to schedule, it was smack dab in the middle of the Gambler's sale. 1500 square feet of asphalt is always part of the sale. The offer from the paving company we planned to use was still available. I bought it when the discount was 40 percent. When the delay of the paving job intersected with the sale, I could see sovereignty clearly. Probably much more clearly than the family in our church whose mother got a severe head injury when a deer hit by an oncoming car crashed through her windshield. God was still sovereign when that happened, but that knowledge brings pain, not pleasure. She is recovering, but has a long way to go.
It is easy to see sovereignty in good things, harder to see in tragedy, and almost impossible to see in the daily routine of life. Especially today, as the afternoon wears on, and no paving trucks are in sight. But, like the sun beyond the clouds, seen or unseen, God's sovereignty is always there.
And we have had a long time to be excited about it, because paving contractors are even harder to catch sight of than sovereignty. Two of the three we called came out right away to do estimates. The third, the one with the best reputation, discount coupons, and radio advertisements, did not return any of our calls. If you are not going to return calls, you might as well offer a big discount. The company with the lowest bid does answer their phone, but is continually mystified that no one has called us with a date for actually installing the asphalt. Until last Wednesday. They called my husband to let him know they were prepared to pave that afternoon. But we were not prepared. Reed was at work, I would not be home for a couple hours, and we had two cars to move, one for which we would need to locate keys. Besides that, Reed wanted to replace the split ties that line the driveway and make a small revision in its shape. We rescheduled for the next week.
Meanwhile, one of our local radio stations was holding their semi-annual Gambler's sale. Products are listed at full price, but the percentage of discount increases throughout the week. The discount reaches 50 percent by the end of the week, but the goods or service you want may no longer be available. That's why it's a gamble. When Paveco finally called to schedule, it was smack dab in the middle of the Gambler's sale. 1500 square feet of asphalt is always part of the sale. The offer from the paving company we planned to use was still available. I bought it when the discount was 40 percent. When the delay of the paving job intersected with the sale, I could see sovereignty clearly. Probably much more clearly than the family in our church whose mother got a severe head injury when a deer hit by an oncoming car crashed through her windshield. God was still sovereign when that happened, but that knowledge brings pain, not pleasure. She is recovering, but has a long way to go.
It is easy to see sovereignty in good things, harder to see in tragedy, and almost impossible to see in the daily routine of life. Especially today, as the afternoon wears on, and no paving trucks are in sight. But, like the sun beyond the clouds, seen or unseen, God's sovereignty is always there.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Delayed "Sad"ification
Today our youngest left home to move to Billings and I feel embarrassingly sad about it. He is 30 years old, and I should have gone through this withdrawal years ago, but I didn't have to. He did not go away to college, so I missed the major mourning I experienced with his siblings. He moved out of our house years ago, but was never far from home. Typical for a youngest child, he is very attached to home. And typical for a mother, my youngest is always my baby in my heart. His G.I. Joes are still in a box in the basement. But a lot of the problem is that he has lived with us for the past year. Shortly after he was discharged from Rimrock last October for health concerns, he moved back in with us. Two surgeries later and one adrenal gland short, a year had passed. I enjoyed having another mouth to feed. Reed enjoyed working with him out at the airport. And although we hated the relapses that turned us from being his parents into his sober police, after years of worry, we finally knew when he was safe and sober at night. Our nest was no longer empty.
It was good for us, but we knew he needed more than an alcohol free zone and to spend all his time with his parents. He needed sobriety he could maintain outside of our home and sober friends to spend time with. He is returning to live in sober housing and attend IOP, intensive outpatient treatment, to continue the progress he made at Rimrock. He is doing exactly what he needs to do and what both we and his counselor wanted to happen. He is the one moving into a house full of strangers and leaving all that is familiar, including his dogs, behind. Tracy has a hard time leaving Kalispell for a day trip to Missoula, I knew this would be hard for him, but how can I convince my sad mother's heart to listen to my logical head. I am feeling the sorrow I would have felt years ago if Tracy had moved for school or marriage like his siblings, what our parents felt when we left. I am just feeling it on the delay cycle. I might envy those parents whose kids never leave their hometown, but distance is not always geographical, and the other kind is much harder to fix.
So the good news is, my guest room will be just the way I like it, our grocery budget will be smaller, and we can retire as sober police. The bad news is--everything else. Our nest is empty. And so, for a time, is that final third of my heart that had been waiting for mourning.
It was good for us, but we knew he needed more than an alcohol free zone and to spend all his time with his parents. He needed sobriety he could maintain outside of our home and sober friends to spend time with. He is returning to live in sober housing and attend IOP, intensive outpatient treatment, to continue the progress he made at Rimrock. He is doing exactly what he needs to do and what both we and his counselor wanted to happen. He is the one moving into a house full of strangers and leaving all that is familiar, including his dogs, behind. Tracy has a hard time leaving Kalispell for a day trip to Missoula, I knew this would be hard for him, but how can I convince my sad mother's heart to listen to my logical head. I am feeling the sorrow I would have felt years ago if Tracy had moved for school or marriage like his siblings, what our parents felt when we left. I am just feeling it on the delay cycle. I might envy those parents whose kids never leave their hometown, but distance is not always geographical, and the other kind is much harder to fix.
So the good news is, my guest room will be just the way I like it, our grocery budget will be smaller, and we can retire as sober police. The bad news is--everything else. Our nest is empty. And so, for a time, is that final third of my heart that had been waiting for mourning.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Unsettled Science
In old horror movies scientists are often pictured as lab coat wearing men of independent means, paying their minions out of their personal fortune so they can pursue their peculiar scientific passions. Though we recognize that as ridiculous, somehow we still think the money for scientific research comes from wealthy philanthropists who want nothing in return--except possibly lab coats. The truth is, research institutes have corporate sponsors and competition for independent grants is cutthroat. When your dietary research is funded by say, Cheetos, you are highly motivated to conclude Cheetos are a daily nutritional need.
Besides the desire to satisfy sponsors, scientists know that finding the biggest, oldest, or most unique ___________ practically guarantees fame and funding. No scientist wants to be the discoverer of, for example, a fossilized spork. So if they dig up such a thing, they quickly undiscover it. In addition, scientist or not, all data is interpreted through a paradigm--a set of assumptions. For many years the prevailing paradigm has been evolution. Scientific evidence that doesn't support evolution is either black-listed from mainstream publications or ridiculed like the science nerds themselves had been ridiculed in junior high, minus the swirlies. The new paradigm is global warming--particularly human caused global warming. If global warming, which objective evidence admits has been happening for 10,000 years, is man-caused, it opens a huge marketing opportunity for products to reduce greenhouse gases. Not to mention the political power that America forgoing fossil fuels would give nations who can't currently compete economically with ours. That is great incentive for climatologists to pick their data like unnaturally warm cherries.
But editing evidence is not necessarily sinister. We do the same thing. You don't see many family Christmas photos posed in front of an open bathroom door. For pictures, we like to appear in the best light possible. During arguments, we choose to only mention things that support our position. Same goes for science. That is why viewing science through rose colored telescopes needs to go to that great ozone hole in the sky. Science cannot be settled because it is not objective. And that makes our current worship of science a little unsettling.
Besides the desire to satisfy sponsors, scientists know that finding the biggest, oldest, or most unique ___________ practically guarantees fame and funding. No scientist wants to be the discoverer of, for example, a fossilized spork. So if they dig up such a thing, they quickly undiscover it. In addition, scientist or not, all data is interpreted through a paradigm--a set of assumptions. For many years the prevailing paradigm has been evolution. Scientific evidence that doesn't support evolution is either black-listed from mainstream publications or ridiculed like the science nerds themselves had been ridiculed in junior high, minus the swirlies. The new paradigm is global warming--particularly human caused global warming. If global warming, which objective evidence admits has been happening for 10,000 years, is man-caused, it opens a huge marketing opportunity for products to reduce greenhouse gases. Not to mention the political power that America forgoing fossil fuels would give nations who can't currently compete economically with ours. That is great incentive for climatologists to pick their data like unnaturally warm cherries.
But editing evidence is not necessarily sinister. We do the same thing. You don't see many family Christmas photos posed in front of an open bathroom door. For pictures, we like to appear in the best light possible. During arguments, we choose to only mention things that support our position. Same goes for science. That is why viewing science through rose colored telescopes needs to go to that great ozone hole in the sky. Science cannot be settled because it is not objective. And that makes our current worship of science a little unsettling.
Friday, October 13, 2017
The Altitude of Our Attitude
I no longer worry when I have periods of time that I have no desire to write. Hobby bloggers get writer's hump, not block. I won't get threats from my sponsors or hate mail from my three followers. To borrow from an ad campaign--Sometimes you write like a nut, sometimes you don't. Expressing myself in writing is just one of my several coping mechanisms. But perhaps, this is a good time to dip my digital pen back in internet ink. We have just finished Family Week at Rimrock Addiction Treatment. Second year in a row. Same time of year. But this time, Tracy got to stay the full 29 days, instead of getting discharged for medical reasons two weeks in, as happened last fall.
Years ago I had a dear friend old enough to be my grandmother. I wanted to be like her when I grew up and, lately, God has given me the chance. Elsie's guiding philosophy as she moved from her big Iowa farmhouse to a small senior apartment in Kalispell and, eventually, a nursing home, was: "It's not what I would have chosen, but that's the way it is so I'll make the best of it." And she did. Her smile was like a billboard for the joy of the Lord. At her funeral, some of her care providers from the nursing home were more distraught than the family.
To weld those two disparate paragraphs together, although attending Family Week in Billings, Montana is not my first, or even eleventh, choice for a vacation, I fully intended to make the best of it. God sovereignly arranged for us to have enough Marriott points to spend five nights in a large, fireplace suite at a wonderful Residence Hotel for free. Not only that, but Monday through Wednesday they provide a free dinner and, every night, free cookies. We are spending an additional night in Billings, so today we moved to the Hilton Homewood, where we have enough points to stay in a one bedroom suite for $70. So, despite being at Rimrock from 8:30 to 4 or 5 p.m. (minus lunch) Monday through Thursday, we still had plenty of time to enjoy our nice hotel. After dinner, we sat around a gas firebox in the courtyard, flames licking through what looked like broken glass. My sister, who watches HGTV, assures me that is a thing now. Since the Homewood doesn't provide dinner on Fridays, we may be forced to eat at one of Billings nice restaurants tonight, like Olive Garden. (Red Lobster was last night.)
Even my husband, for whom the glass is always half-full (and probably contains poison), was unable to maintain his bad attitude and began to enjoy the trip. When a loved one is an addict, finding moments of joy may be like dancing between the raindrops, but as I recognize the sovereignty of God in my life, I have found that the showers are scattered, and the sky mostly sunny. We spent our days here in the company of wonderful people--including the addicts. The shared bond of addiction deepens relationships quickly. Then we suffered through our evenings at fine hotels. If that is a sacrifice I'm making for our alcoholic son, please punish me again. God sends just enough rain to make us grow. Whether we view that as a blessing or a blight depends on the altitude of our attitude.
Years ago I had a dear friend old enough to be my grandmother. I wanted to be like her when I grew up and, lately, God has given me the chance. Elsie's guiding philosophy as she moved from her big Iowa farmhouse to a small senior apartment in Kalispell and, eventually, a nursing home, was: "It's not what I would have chosen, but that's the way it is so I'll make the best of it." And she did. Her smile was like a billboard for the joy of the Lord. At her funeral, some of her care providers from the nursing home were more distraught than the family.
To weld those two disparate paragraphs together, although attending Family Week in Billings, Montana is not my first, or even eleventh, choice for a vacation, I fully intended to make the best of it. God sovereignly arranged for us to have enough Marriott points to spend five nights in a large, fireplace suite at a wonderful Residence Hotel for free. Not only that, but Monday through Wednesday they provide a free dinner and, every night, free cookies. We are spending an additional night in Billings, so today we moved to the Hilton Homewood, where we have enough points to stay in a one bedroom suite for $70. So, despite being at Rimrock from 8:30 to 4 or 5 p.m. (minus lunch) Monday through Thursday, we still had plenty of time to enjoy our nice hotel. After dinner, we sat around a gas firebox in the courtyard, flames licking through what looked like broken glass. My sister, who watches HGTV, assures me that is a thing now. Since the Homewood doesn't provide dinner on Fridays, we may be forced to eat at one of Billings nice restaurants tonight, like Olive Garden. (Red Lobster was last night.)
Even my husband, for whom the glass is always half-full (and probably contains poison), was unable to maintain his bad attitude and began to enjoy the trip. When a loved one is an addict, finding moments of joy may be like dancing between the raindrops, but as I recognize the sovereignty of God in my life, I have found that the showers are scattered, and the sky mostly sunny. We spent our days here in the company of wonderful people--including the addicts. The shared bond of addiction deepens relationships quickly. Then we suffered through our evenings at fine hotels. If that is a sacrifice I'm making for our alcoholic son, please punish me again. God sends just enough rain to make us grow. Whether we view that as a blessing or a blight depends on the altitude of our attitude.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)