Peas and Carrots

Last week, someone in small group read the quote:
God is the goal, not the means.

(Gulp) Wow. A plate of hard core conviction served up succinctly in seven words. As Forrest Gump would say, “That’s all I have to say about that." (More later after I crawl out from under this rock...)

Am I Really Ready to Rumble?

Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." Matthew 16:24-25

So, on many occasions, I find myself wrestling with God for control of my life. Of course, God and I facing off is somewhat like a match-up between Andre the Giant and the most petite member of the Lollipop Guild. A pointless fight, really. But one that I foolishly dream of winning someday.

Tonight I was ruminating on how much I try to take control of my life. I prayed about it. I asked God to help me realize just how little control I really have of my life. But after thinking about my words for a few seconds, I vetoed that idea.

I said to God, “Nevermind, don’t do that. Cause if you answer that prayer and try to show me my true lack of control, you will probably have to allow something to happen to me where I feel really out of control, huh? And I can’t say I want that. How’s about if I just promise to learn the lesson the easy way instead of you teaching me the hard way? Sound good, God? Greeeaaat…”

Even in my prayers where I’m confessing my control issues and requesting help for my struggle, I realize I am telling God, “Hope you don’t mind, but we’re doing things my way.” (Have you ever danced the jig with Conviction? I have. He’s a lousy partner. Always stepping on my toes).

Friends have warned me that for the major issues we each entertain, one might not feel freedom immediately after seeking God’s help. They say that one might have to surrender these things to God on a daily basis, over a lifetime perhaps. But on the issue of control, I am not quite sure this is even enough for me. I think I might have to up the frequency to an infinite number of real-time surrenders, where I am perpetually letting go, every second if need be, until my mind reflexively begins to adapt the pattern and hopefully settles into the worn groove of habit.

Yes, come to think of it, I have determined this is exactly how it shall be. Hear that, God? I’ve made another decision about how my life is going to go...

D'oh!

Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21

Confession

Early in the morning Joshua and all the Israelites set out from Shittim and went to the Jordan, where they camped before crossing over. Joshua 3:1

When we read this passage in Sunday school, I had to stifle a giggle at the city name of Shittim.

Sometimes I can be hopelessly immature.

Gum

I was at church yesterday and saw a boy and his dad in the row in front of me. The father took a pack of gum from his pocket and slid a piece into his mouth. The little boy tugged his father’s pant leg, smiled and held his hand out for some gum. Dad smiled back and handed him a piece. The boy shoved it into his mouth and began to chew. His hand balled up the silver wrapper as he looked up at his father who was busy watching the worship band play. The child took the wrapper and tried to sneak it into his father’s pocket. The dad quickly noticed and glanced down at him. His son, caught red-handed in mid-action, served up a guilty smile, but his father merely chuckled, grinning down at his boy. Then the father held open his pocket for his son to place the trash inside.

I sat back and watched this scene play out. It was only a few second long, but it touched me. I thought, “That is love. When your daddy takes care of your trash.” And it made me think of our Abba who does the same thing. He lavishes us with blessings and in the most unequal of trades, we reciprocate by giving Him our trash. Our past, our sins, our failings. Something doesn’t seem fair about that. Seems to me like God gets the short end of the stick and we get everything. But for some reason, which is beyond my worldly comprehension, our daddy lovingly takes our trash and is happy to do so. How amazing is that?

God rocks. (Hello, Captain Obvious).

Oh, Ye Of Little Faith

"Lord, if it is you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." "Come," he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "Why did you doubt?" Matthew 14:28-31

So, today's sermon was taken from this passage. I remember when I first began perusing the Bible back in college and assumed, like any normal book, one should start from the beginning. I thought Genesis was ok, and Exodus seemed to be an interesting enough tale, but off into Leviticus, Numbers and on, well, someone please pass me a No-Doz. When I picked it up this time around, a friend suggested I start by reading the gospels. After I google searched a definition for "gospels", I opened to Matthew and began. This passage hit me hard for some reason and has been my favorite scene in the Bible ever since.

I've heard Chris Rock tell a joke where he says he loves Bill Clinton as president, because along with his job entailed "presidential" problems, he is just an average joe with "average joe" problems - like: money problems, friend problems, wife problems, jail problems, etc. Chris Rock ends with "I love Bill Clinton. I get Bill Clinton. I AM Bill Clinton." I feel this way about the disciple Peter, [whom I embarassingly referred to as "Simon (called Peter)" for several months before someone explained that "Peter" was quite sufficient]. I love Peter. I get Peter. I AM Peter.

Peter had good intentions. He was always talking big, truly believing himself capable of fulfilling his promises, but then flubbing it all up at the end. Peter desperately loves Jesus and desires to be near him. In Matthew 14, as the other disciples tremble in fear during a storm, Peter leaves the relative safety of the boat and starts to walk on the water towards Jesus. But he, like many of us, is soon plagued by doubt and begins to sink. He ends up crying out to Jesus to be rescued. And Jesus' response always makes me smile: Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "Why did you doubt?"

The disciples confuse me. Jesus was continuously performing miracles right in front of them, but they all seemed so surprised every time. Like, when Jesus fed 5000 people from a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish, but then the next time they were low on food, the disciples wondered how everyone would eat. If I had seen Jesus do the things they saw Him do, I'd like to think I'd be pretty confident that he could do it again. They seemed pretty dense to me.

But when I really think about it, I often find myself in this same kind of situation. God's track record has proven to me, over and over again, that He is good, that He is listening and that He does want the best for me. I should know that everything will work out. Yet still I am often fearful and lose faith. I worry and doubt and question and get frustrated with God when my situation seems impossibly bleak. I lose heart and fall into the watery abyss of doubt when I would have been fine had I only kept my eyes forward and continued to walk.

Oh, me of little faith. Why do I doubt?

Holiday Hell

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope. Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed. His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.
Lamentations 3:19-23

So, I became a Christian in Sept 2004 and in the year that has followed, my life has become truly joy-filled for the first time ever. But as the circle of life spins round and round, my emotional state has similarily looped in the last few months. I have found myself, once again, in Holiday Hell - my traditional period of mourning and mental self-torture that brings forth fixations on such annual favorites as: "I will never marry", "I will never have kids", "I will never have a good job", "I will never pay of my student loans" and "I will never lose enough weight to wear a swimsuit without a coverup". These worries are always there, languidly rolling around in the back of my mind throughout the year, but they become as glaringly obvious as a blinking neon sign when set in the midst of the cozy haze of Christmas lights, the sweetness of couple and baby-filled family reunions.

From sometime around Thanksgiving up until New Years, I have been walking around with this nasty black cloud hanging over my head. Happy couples make me want to vomit. Wedding announcements become kindling for my fireplace. Glowing, pregnant friends make me want to curl up under the covers and eat pastries til I succomb to a sugar coma. Dylan Thomas once said, "Someone is boring me. I think it's me." Well, someone's pessimism is boring me. I think it's mine. I imagine even Jesus is watching my pathetic pity party and rolling his eyes at me, sighing heartily, glancing at God and shaking his head in disgust.

But as Lamentations says, because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed. His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. As I lounge in bed, peeking out from under the covers at the beginning of this new year, these verses infiltrate my fog and cause a renewed sense of hope to spark. I know that this minor holiday-infused depression will be transient; like a Detroit layover on the way to some exotic locale. I know that as the holidays end and the new year circles round, every morning I wake is another new chance for me to begin again, a new chance to live the life that God has planned for me. And I know that this life He has planned is a blessed one.

Rock on.

Happy New Year.