Precious Love

So, it's Oscar time again, and as usual, I'm on top of things! Last week I sat breathlessly through the Oscar nominated movie, "Precious." OK, a mere 365 or so days behind, but some movies are just meant to be seen alone, at your own pace. In case you're one of the four or five other people left who have never seen it, this is the gist: obese, illiterate, inner city kid coping with motherhood, pregnancy, and eventually HIV, victimized sexually by her father, abused emotionally and physically by her mother, struggles to overcome her disadvantages, finding love and self-worth along the way. Some criticized it for being "over the top" -- too many stereotypes, too may social issues addressed in one film, and too much drama for one character. Fine, deny its reality, but you can't deny its premise -- one victimized at every twist and turn, one struggling for "normal" in an environment so dysfunctional that "normal" has been expunged from existence.

Point is, I found myself, probably like most who saw it, knowing darkness and struggle exists in our society, but not wanting to believe it. The dead walk the streets of our cities and towns; the empty sit next to us on buses and benches. It's that moment when we first ask ourselves, "How can anyone live like that?" that we choose to ignore. Its answer eventually leads to a desperate realization we need action, and who but ourselves is there to take up that action? So, we emerge from a darkened theater and reject the existence of such defect, or shake our heads in disgust before retreating to the safety of busy schedules. The truth is, there are many Anyones, and change is facilitated by the Ourselves. Our wonderment needs to move beyond empathy or disgust, out of our hearts and minds, onto our lips, regardless of our busy schedules, and into our hands and feet. Which, by the way don't belong to us. God gave us tools with which to serve others and bring glory to Him. We are His servants and ambassadors in Christ Jesus. History has shown, as well, the blessing that we receive when we help others; God has promised to prosper those who do His Will. Let us not ever forget Who ransomed and redeemed us, Who put us here with purpose, Who blessed us with our very next breath, and Who calls us to love as we have been loved - with action, with selflessness, with His very hands and feet.

"Trusting God" Stilettos?

I may be letting the cat out of the bag; I may be giving up all rights to a patent, but Scott has created a line of shoes (in his mind, thankfully) that will revolutionize women's fashion -- stilettos.  Oh, not just ordinary stilettos -- shower stilettos, pajama stilettos, roller skating stilettos, hiking stilettos, reading and writing stilettos -- the list goes on and on.  This may be partially my fault.  I wear heels constantly.  In fact, flats make up a minuscule 3% or so of my footwear.  At 5'4" I feel much more a part of the adult human race in heels.  No one resting their elbow on my head; no one cracking, "Find any spare change down there?"  I feel people take me far more seriously when I'm rocking at least a 3" advantage.  Can you say "Napoleon complex?"  Perhaps.  But truth is, we treat people differently because of their (no pun intended) shortcomings.  Their differences make a difference in the way we relate.

On somewhat of a flipside to that, I was listening to a Christian radio broadcast a few weeks ago,  I was outraged to hear a very intelligent woman say she would patronize a store owned by a person sharing her skin color, not because she felt more comfortable, not because we tend to naturally gravitate toward those like us, but because she would rather promote and increase that business, strictly on the premise of "giving a leg up" to a person who shares her skin tone.  Am I wrong to be incensed by this?  Do I want someone giving me a leg up (once, again, no pun intended) because I'm short? or a woman? or white?  I would like to live in a world in which I could at least believe I earned it.  My friendly customer service, a superior product, location, location, location -- not a handout because I'm a short, chunky, white chick.  Likewise, my skin would crawl if someone said to me, "She wrote a better article, but you're white."  Really?  Blech!

Dear God, I am human.  I look for comfort in the things that are familiar to me.  Help me not only to treat others fairly; help me not only to see others as You see, but help me to step from my "comfort zone" into Your loving arms, trust Your direction, and be salt and light to others -- all others -- as You command.  Amen.  

How's that for High Drama?

My post high school days were spent as a soap opera junkie. Hours of mind-melting drivel. And if I missed?! No DVR, no Hulu! Who knew what manner of ruin would befall Luke and Laura without their most loyal viewer to gasp, sigh, and vociferously divulge the next phase of Frank Smith’s evil plot? Thankfully, I was able to break free from that addiction years ago, but I suppose the adrenalin junkie in me still enjoys living vicariously in the characters I read – Mitch Rapp, Painter Crowe, Myron Bolitar, Jane Kelly – and Jacob. That’s right, the Jacob, grandson of Abraham, and spoiled, deceitful birthright “thief.”

I am currently reading the book of Genesis and, in the name of fairness, I shouldn’t just finger Jacob for deception and intrigue – it’s that whole Israelite bunch! In only thirty chapters I have encountered no fewer than twenty blatant examples of thievery, premeditated and intentional entrapment, trickery, revenge, fraud, murder, drunken incest – you name it! How can a God who is so repulsed by sin even think of blessing such a people? These were the generations upon whom He was to establish His nation; these were His Chosen!

Truly, I am His Chosen. I am as conniving and murderous as they come. From the womb I have never been more than a self-centered, demanding, plotting villain. From the cross I am as pure as the driven snow. I am ransomed; I am purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ – He knows, He’s the only One who would want me, could make anything of me. Though I sit here reading, judging, thanking God I am “not as bad as they,” in my heart of hearts I know that without Jesus, I am worse. I have generations of weaponry, lies and cruelty from which to draw; I have technology at my disposal that would allow me to slander, ruin and steal in ways Isaac and his sons would never have dreamt. But I am no less His Chosen; I am no less made a saint. My God, the God of the Israelites is repulsed by sin, this is true, but He is not repulsed by me. He has the power to take trash – worse than trash – and turn it into eternal treasure; He has for me the love which motivates Him to, in His grace, extend such a privilege to me.

Lessons from a Dog

Each morning, at the side of my bed, explodes the world's most animated alarm clock -- a wiggling, wriggling, snorting bundle of sheer exuberance known as Bishop.  My normally quiet, faithful follower greets me with unrestrained excitement and overflowing joy.  His entire body wags, his tail almost slapping him in his own face.  The eagerness and abandon with which he greets the day is to be envied -- and emulated.  Well, maybe not exactly.

Often I have thought to myself, "What an attitude!"  I'm almost ashamed by the way I grumble, or complain about my aches and pains.  This guy eats scraps from  our table -- he can't even see above our table!  He sleeps on a mat on the floor (albeit Tempurpedic) that he shares with Tinkerbell, who gives new meaning to bed hog, and sucks her leg to puddles of slobber from one end to the other.  His toilet is outside in 20-degree weather; the biggest event of his day is a walk!  (Although the occasional car ride to Swiss Farm trumps that any day!)  Still, he is delighted to be a part of it!  This guy can't appreciate a sunrise the way I can, yet he thrills to rise with it.  He can't speak or fully comprehend what's being said, yet he craves our attention and hangs on every word!  He spends the greater part of his day looking for me, or making sure he's as close to me as possible; he is content merely to sit at my feet and rest in my presence.

Wow.  So many lessons there...