See, I Told You So!

And their sins and iniquities will I remember no more. (Hebrews 10:17)

Yeah, I know, I just used this verse.  Well, as I said, "The memory is the first to go!"  Actually, I just realized I'd had this one saved in my Drafts folder, and it really does put a somewhat of a different spin on things.

No secret here, I burned a lot of bridges in my late teens and twenties, and thirties, and probably even  my forties.  I lied, cheated, abandoned, blah, blah, blah.  In short, I did a lot of really dreadful things.

But, now I've changed.

So, how on earth do I begin to mend fences?  People don't forget. 

When it's time to go back to that business owner and ask for a job... When it's time to return that looong overdue phone call to a faithful friend... When it's time to make a public statement of faith in front of a congregation of people who remember the "old" me... When it's time to tuck my tail between my legs, and go back home...

The spin is this: Though people may judge you, though people may question your sincerity, God looks at the heart.  And, if you have asked his forgiveness, if you have repented of those past misdeeds, God remembers no more!

How ironic that we, as people called to love one another, with no right whatsoever to judge another, can't seem to forget "the time when..." or "the days when she..."  But Almighty God, omnipotent and omniscient, with the power and position to judge, and knowledge to see the heart -- forgives and forgets!

Then, He turns around and grooms us, equips us, refines us for His service -- the honor of doing His work!  He doesn't hide the till.  He doesn't give us a trial run, "just to see how things work out."  He doesn't lock up the whiskey.  He is armed with a batallion of reformed weaklings.  He communes with former alcoholics and anorexics.  He receives tithes from convicted embezzlers and transformed gamblers.  He calls liars to proclaim His Truth and commands gossips to spread the Gospel! 

He changes us from the inside, moment by moment working us toward perfection, yoked with us, carrying us if necessary, but looking at us as if we were BRAND NEW!

The Memory is the First Thing to Go!

And their sins and iniquities will I remember no more. (Hebrews 10:17)

As I sat in Sears, watching Olivia and Christine goof around in the shoe department, another weary shopper joined me in lamenting our increasing lack of shopping stamina.  Apparently, this affliction struck her with the advent of internet shopping.  "It's just so much easier!" she exclaimed.


Hmm...all this time, I've been blaming it on my age.  I liked her explanation a lot better.  And truthfully, I can be a real Half.com junkie.

Time after time I have told myself, I can quit.  "Just don't think about it," I say.  And, as anyone knows, the more you don't think about something; the more you wind up thinking about it.


But not God.  He makes a conscious choice to forget who we are, who we were without His intervention, without His sacrifice.  How does an omnipresent and omniscient God forget?  He wills it so!


Even when our dearest loved ones find themselves in need of our forgiveness, how readily do we offer them our "forgotness?"  And as eager as we may be to restore them to relationship, how quickly do we revert to our old suspicions when something appears a little less than legitimate?  How often do we find it necessary to re-establish or re-work boundaries, simply to maintain the relationship in a way that we all can be comfortable?

Not God.

And do I really have to mention those "less than dear ones" who just always seem to be asking for it?  Just when I seem to be making progress -- they're at it again!  How can I forgive -- much less forget -- when everytime I turn around...?

Jesus said, "...seventy times seven."  And really, I don't believe that means a literal 490 times.  The point is, A LOT!

Enough that you are absolutely, exclusively reliant on Jesus to handle the situation.  Enough that this becomes more about you and Jesus, than it is about you and the person who has harmed you.  Enough to forget the offense and be ready to receive the reward!

It's a Fight!

In my limited public school experience, I remember hearing the cries of, "Fight!  Fight!" as students gathered in a circle overlooking two scratching, scuffling creatures struggling to gain the upper hand in childhood.  This is not to say, by the way, that the terra firma of our local Christian school has not claimed the  hide of two or more combatants in its day, but at Christian school we tended to keep it on the DL -- tolerance for such shenanigans being so much lower, and consequences being so much more severe, and all that.  No cheering; no ring girls -- just a lot of looking over your shoulder.

Anyhoo, these fights were almost always preceded by a period of verbal taunts.  Not the "your-mother-wears-combat-boots" kind; even we were too hardened for that one.  (What did that one really mean, anyway?)  But the type that began with vague allusions to "the last guy," and ended with some pretty specific boasts about how little it would take to wipe up the asphalt with today's chosen target.  (Yes, that's right -- asphalt.  No recycled tires or sanitized wood chips here, Kiddies.  This was the Wild West.  True Grit.)  My favorite was, "I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back!"  Everybody always said it; I've never seen it.  That is, not on the playground.

God has a way of whittling us down to "nothing."  Nothing, that is, but Him.  Think Gideon with his army of 300 going up against an army of 135,000 or more, likely more.  Think Abram refusing to take the spoils of Sodom's kingdom.  Think John the Baptist, Isaiah, even Jesus Himself and their "wilderness experiences." 

Think those of us who watch the Sunday morning offering baskets go by (or worse -- drop a dollar or two in for appearance's sake) because "we just don't have it this week."

It's not my job to beat anybody up (no pun intended) or convict anyone (allow the Holy Spirit to do that work in us).  But, I just want to tell you what amazing things God can do with one hand tied behind our backs!  When we are at our weakest, we allow God to be strong.  When we crowd Him out with all of the things we are able to do, our opportunity to sit back and enjoy the show, is lost.

I challenge myself as well today, to "taste and see the Lord is good."

   

Seven Days in Utopia

I am dying to see "Seven Days in Utopia!"  It opens today, and I intend to drag my family -- kicking and screaming, if they insist -- to see it.  I love Robert Duvall, and the thrill of seeing a "family movie" that has something other than malformed blue characters and talking animals delights me to no end!  Besides, I've always liked golf. 

Now, I'm not a golfer, but I have this ethereal sense of what it might be like to spend an entire afternoon peacefully strolling around the links, following a little white ball wherever it leads, warm sun on my shoulders, fresh air coursing through my body, and a carpet of perfect green cushioning my feet.  The golfers on TV always look so composed -- their creases crisp, their whites white.  Like a Tide commercial.  From what the guys at work tell me, it's nothing like that. 

In fact, the picture they paint is so anti-empyrean, it almost makes me think we're talking about two different pastimes.  Perhaps in the high-gloss, cherry wood, sound-deadened bowels of the country club locker room, men are taught to speak ill of the game they are so desperately drawn toward.  A brer rabbit sort of stratagem that leaves wives thinking their absentee husbands have gotten a rigorous aerobic workout, slogging through the gooey muck of water traps and fighting their way back from the soul-sucking sands of the underworld.  Then again, maybe golf wives know. 

Maybe they have their own agendum.  Maybe they enjoy the solace of a Myrtle Beach excursion...for him, and a few days shopping, reading, and spa-ing for them!  Maybe they like having a whole day to themselves, walking in and out of the bathroom just to see if the seat is still down!  Maybe they know 4-1/2 hours in the hot sun, throwing back Stellas (or, as the Brits call them: "wifebeaters") and frantically trying to place a willful little ball in a distant plastic cup can lessen a golfer's life expectancy and increase a widow's net worth. 

Hmmm...maybe middle aged men would be better off taking up cribbage or something a little less...shall we say, Utopian?

P.S.  This movie is rated "G."  Unfortunately, it is only playing at a limited number of theaters.  But, all kidding aside, I will be seeing it THIS WEEKEND.  So, I'll let you know...