If You Can't Beat 'Em...

Some folks tell me I'm a little intense, somewhat intimidating and maybe even a little "hyper" from time to time.  I'll admit, when I am passionate about something I can be very goal-oriented and exclusive-- even when I'm passionately adverse to something.  And, maybe, sometimes I get my feathers ruffled just a little too easily, but is it any wonder...

For instance, one day I answered the phone at work with my usual greeting, "Philadelphia Feeders, Judi."  First words from this guy's mouth -- I kid you not -- "Is there a management person there, or just you tonight?"  Really ?  Wrong, on soo many levels!  First of all, could he really tell by my voice whether I am management or not?  I wanted to say, "Um, yeah, Minion.  I am the Regional Manager.  What now?!"  Secondly, "just you?"  He actually said that -- "just you."  OK.  "Fact is, Sir, it is just me here tonight, and -- Oh, my, the phones have started ringing off their hooks!  Why, look at that!  I'm going to have to put you on hold for a minute."  Two hours later...

Then there is the best question ever: "How do you spell [_____]?" (you fill in the blank)  Then: "Are you sure?"  Wait a minute, you didn't know how to spell it (you probably have a paper hanging on your wall with a few prestigious signatures and a fancy seal, and you're probably my boss, by the way) but now you want to question my answer.

Or the "paperless company" that requires me to print copies of reports I send out via email or complete on line.  Or the warranty on a sofa that doesn't cover a manufacturer's defect, but will cover damage that results from jumping on the furniture in golf cleats, launching it from a third story window, through a ring of fire and into a vat of mayonnaise.  Or the store that advertises the start of a sale on Sunday, but doesn't get their order in until Thursday.  Or the woman with the foo-foo dog that sees my two snarling, foaming, rearing meatheads and asks, "Safe to approach?"  (My answer is usually, "Well, it depends on what your goals are.")  Or any of the number of idiocies that seem to occur in any twenty-four hour period. 

Then again, considering we live in a world where Lindsay Lohan is headline news and reality TV is entertainment, maybe I should just set the Cruise Control and head to the back for a relaxing cup of coffee.    

Summing It All Up

"Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen." Jude 1:24,25

Believe it or not, this has got to be my favorite passage in the Bible.  It just screams victory, power, Providence, encouragement and safety!  What an amazing God we have -- to provide a way for us to not only leave this earth in victory, but to live in victory as well!  He can keep us from failure and self-imposed grief.  The choice is ours to trust and abide; we do not "go it alone."  He has made a way through the blood of His Son Jesus, for us to join Him, not only when our mortal bodies cease to function, but to join Him every minute of every day in His presence in prayer, in boldness and victory, as pure and holy children.  Jesus celebrates upon entering God's presence with us by His side.  Truly He is the One True God, worthy of ALL praise and honor, glory and majesty, with dominion and authority over everything that ever was, is or will be!  Praise God what comfort that brings!

Your Servant is Listening

God speaks all the time, through His sunrises and through the kindness of those we encounter in congested rush hour traffic.  Sometimes it's as big as the formation of mankind itself; sometimes it's as small as the cry of one newborn.  Sometimes, if we are not quiet, if we are not seeking His direction, if we are closed off from fellowship with Him, we will miss it.  This week, I almost missed it; in fact, I'm still not completely sure what it is.

The morning radio program I listen to on weekdays has featured a series on friendship: how to choose friends, the importance of friendship, the consequences of allowing circumstances to choose your friends for you.  Helpful, I thought, especially since I have been deeply wounded by friends, and I do not actively seek or desire relationships.  Additionally, there was a lot of valuable information I could pass on to my children.

Then there was an incident in which I felt betrayed by someone who unknowingly made some statements that injured me.  I felt alone, and I lashed out.  I thought I'd uncovered the Godspeak in that, when I realized that I had put my confidence in someone other than the omniscient God I desire to serve and, through no fault of his own, my friend did not "perform" the way I had anticipated.  Shame on me for feeling alone, when God is always with us!  But, He was not finished.

There was the debate over the benefits of sending Christine to school as opposed to continuing to homeschool.  It was pretty much the same arguments: socialization, a "taste of the real world," routine and responsibility.  I won't get into all the back-and-forth that occurred in my head, but my position on "socialization" remains the same as always:  How often do good teens change the lives of "bad teens" for the better?  How often does it work in reverse?

Lastly, came 3 John 1, this morning's devotions.  This letter from The Elder to Gaius speaks of two very different men that were at work in the church of his day. One, Demetrius was known as a man of good character, a man of truth; the other, Diotrephes was a slanderer who had issues with authority, who "put himself first," who bullied others into conforming to his truth less ways.  Clearly, the Elder encourages his reader to follow the example of the former, Demetrius friend of the church.

So what did all this talk of friendship and examples, all these adages and verses mean?  Is God encouraging me to put the hurt of past relationships aside, and open my heart to new friendship?  Is God cautioning me about a "friendship" that may be subtly developing, that I may be unknowingly encouraging, that needs to be brought to an end.  I'm still not quite sure yet, but I know God is speaking, and I know it's time to listen.

A Place to Call Home

Last week, when I posted a little piece about our preparations for and ensuing vacation, my cousin contacted me and mentioned recalling memories of his summers at the beach.  That triggered more of my childhood recollections as well, particularly those of seaside summer days, or revival week at a nearby camp meeting,  My upbringing entwined itself with church activities and was designed to be wholesome, if not disgustingly "vanilla" by today's standards.  That's OK, though.  Throughout my life, in times of darkest despair or stomach-churning confusion I had something to return to, some basis to draw me back to the One Who loved me and created me, even if I had gotten where I was by running from Him.

I have to admit, the emotion of the "altar call" drew me to give my life to Christ -- more than once.  I even developed a certain disdain for "Just As I Am," and the booming voice of fire and brimstone preachers lowered to just above a whisper as they beckoned, "Come, just come.  God is waiting for you right now."  I'd nod my head in Amen when other pastors preached against this "smoke and mirrors" technique that "confuses the real reason why we're here -- lifelong commitment -- with thirty minutes of regret."  Truth is, later in life, when I'd collapsed in exhaustion from all that running, or I'd gotten myself so lost I didn't know which way to turn, it was not some verse of Scripture that drew me back within the stone walls of God's fold.  It was the longing to return to those "easier days," riding home from the shore, late at night, sun burnt and sandy, lying across the deck in the back window of my parents LTD, listening to the seams of the road whirr-thump underneath us.  It was sweltering evenings at revival, sitting on rickety wooden chairs with my brother and I tucked between our parents and fanning ourselves with old "palm frond" fans from the local funeral home.  It was army blankets and picnics at Westinghouse during Dad's lunch break.  It was wearing out crayon after crayon over sheets of paper covering the rough concrete steps of my parents' front porch, when we'd run out of things to do, or couldn't find an inch of shade in the yard.  It was emotion, plain and simple.

Emotion drew me back to a time when I felt safe and loved and "home."  Emotion made me want that again, though reason may have reminded me "you can't go back."  Emotion drove me to finding the roots of that upbringing, roots that ran deeper than leaves on my family tree, leaves that blew to the far reaches of the country, or whithered and died.  Emotion that kept me searching for the Rock on which to build my life, and later my home.