I live in "Central" time zone. That leaves me 6th from the end. When my clock displayed 12:00 to start today, part of the world had already been in this day for 18 hours.
I could go on a deep tangent about how people there have made mistakes today. Mistakes I could learn from and change my day to fix. A "turn your destiny" kind of thing. But it's irrelevant, and so I won't. But it's interesting. To me :)
Anyway, each day runs pretty much the same. By the time I start my job, other people have gone to work, come home, and are back in bed. Granted, some people are vacationing or traveling or at home sick. But for the most part, people are working the entire 24 hours-- somewhere. Yes, yes, there are factories and hospitals and 24-hour places just here in the US. It only adds to my point that people are constantly working.
I recently re-joined a church with a congregation around 1,000. I have thought many times about what it's like to sing with that kind of number and about the kind of glorified freight train-ish roar heaven will sound like. I've also considered how many other churches are full of people singing worshipful praise to our King at the same time.
I think about how that makes God smile. For Him to see us proclaiming the love we feel all week but keep to ourselves. I don't know about you, but I don't walk around my house saying "Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me." But to be able to say those words and reflect on His goodness and how undeserving I am of it is a healthy sort of searching. And declaring things aloud like "You're beautiful," or "I adore You," pushes me to channel further into my heart and immerse myself in truths I'm usually too busy overlooking. AND it's singing! In a quick search of just the words "music, song, sing, and instrument," over 400 references pop up. God LOVES music.
And God loves people. So put together His people making music just to thank Him for being Him (some peoples' singing may be a stretch to deem "music" to our ears :) ), and I really think we've got a good thing going Sunday morning.
Here's the kicker.
By the time I start work any given weekday, people around the globe have been working for 18 hours. So by the time I'm sitting in my first service Sunday morning at 8:30. . . people around the globe have been singing praise for 18 hours. Eighteen straight hours of praise to the King of Kings!!! People complimenting my Daddy :) And it continues for 6 more!
People in China risk sacrificing everything to meet together in secret for His Name and the spread of His love. What higher honor could we give our King?
It's like Father's Day every Sunday for Him.
So this Sunday, whether your alarm goes off or your kids jolt you from sleep or the dog drapes his leash across your face, try to wake up thinking about how God's day is going. Know that you have the opportunity to join in heaven's eternal song to Him and earth's one, ongoing day of praise.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Walking Amongst the Lampstands
This morning my quiet time brought me to Revelation chapter 1. To be honest, I was reluctant to read it. Revelation is a heavy book shrouded in mystery that cannot be decoded with any certainty. But I figured I would read it anyway. And guess what. At church this morning, the sermon was from Revelation chapter 1. So maybe I should be listening.
The author of Revelation is John. He was closest to Jesus' heart and ministry while He was here. Even so, when Jesus approached him to communicate the revelation, He was in His glorified form, and John couldn't handle it. Verse 17 says that John "fell at His feet as though dead" from fear.
Let me take this opportunity to point out that we take Him too lightly.
John describes what Jesus looks like, but also notes that He was "among the lampstands." This picture has a lot of Old Testament temple history behind it, but he tells us that the lampstands represent 7 churches. A few sentences later, we're told that the churches are represented by 7 stars as well.
We see light from lamps at night. We see light from stars at night. It is dark at night.
So where then should the church be shining? We get together once or twice a week and brightly illuminate each other in a big room. Is that why we're lit? Or could it be that we're to search out the darkness with intent to pour healing light over it? And do we need to find sinking abysses of darkness to be effective? Or could it be that the person in the cubicle beside you can't see her hand in front of her face? What about the haggard mom holding up the line at Wal-Mart?
That isn't to say that we shouldn't come together with other believers and "trim our wicks" or sharpen one another. God longs for us to have that kind of community and has even built into us a need for it. But the challenge is to step away once we've been filled and pull someone else up from their pit. What the heck, why not just climb into the pit with them to help? After all, even Jesus ate with "sinners." Maybe His followers should give it a shot. Myself included.
The author of Revelation is John. He was closest to Jesus' heart and ministry while He was here. Even so, when Jesus approached him to communicate the revelation, He was in His glorified form, and John couldn't handle it. Verse 17 says that John "fell at His feet as though dead" from fear.
Let me take this opportunity to point out that we take Him too lightly.
John describes what Jesus looks like, but also notes that He was "among the lampstands." This picture has a lot of Old Testament temple history behind it, but he tells us that the lampstands represent 7 churches. A few sentences later, we're told that the churches are represented by 7 stars as well.
We see light from lamps at night. We see light from stars at night. It is dark at night.
So where then should the church be shining? We get together once or twice a week and brightly illuminate each other in a big room. Is that why we're lit? Or could it be that we're to search out the darkness with intent to pour healing light over it? And do we need to find sinking abysses of darkness to be effective? Or could it be that the person in the cubicle beside you can't see her hand in front of her face? What about the haggard mom holding up the line at Wal-Mart?
That isn't to say that we shouldn't come together with other believers and "trim our wicks" or sharpen one another. God longs for us to have that kind of community and has even built into us a need for it. But the challenge is to step away once we've been filled and pull someone else up from their pit. What the heck, why not just climb into the pit with them to help? After all, even Jesus ate with "sinners." Maybe His followers should give it a shot. Myself included.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Happiest Man on Earth
Rodney and I are in Puerto Rico right now (which everyone knows RIGHT NOW, but won't if they ever look back to read this). We flew in last night and walked around the beach some. But we woke up this morning and both ran to the hotel window with Christmas morning passion to see the ocean in daylight.
We got ready and strolled down to breakfast and watched waves lick the sand while we casually ate our bagels and sipped Puerto Rican coffee.
At that point in the morning, neither of us felt ambitious enough to swim or do the touristy things we're looking forward to doing, but we still wanted to drink in some warm ocean air. So we decided to bask on the front steps of our hotel. He with his laptop, and me with my journal. We spent nearly 2 hours sitting on those steps.
Parking around San Juan is pretty sparse, so this hotel utilizes valet parking. The driver stands outside the building to help intercept patrons as they arrive. Since he was waiting out front, and we were sitting out front, our 2 hours of leisure activities were interspersed with conversation with him.
His English was really quite good, and he had one of the best, most optimistic attitudes I've ever encountered. He is the self-proclaimed "happiest man on earth." He said someone else could be as happy as him, but not happier.
He is in love with God and is excited to talk about it. He goes to ghettos and the jail and to where the drug dealers and prostitutes hang out to tell them about Jesus and about how there's a better life to be had. His voice broke at one point when describing how these people are caught and stuck and can't see their way out.
He told us that God knew what He was doing putting him in Puerto Rico. He's lived here his whole 56 years and loves the ocean and the sky. He told me that I need to write this analogy down and tell my kids:
The ocean is like God's love. It's vast and deep. Like His love, you can see where the ocean starts, but not where it ends. And like the waves effortlessly and constantly come into shore, His love is coming at us continually. We can't control it or add to it.
Rodney also pointed out that if you saw a guy carrying water from a lake to the ocean or pouring in the purest bottled water because he thought he could improve the ocean, you'd say he was crazy.
The general concept of that analogy isn't new to me. But it's something that he knows. Not just an idea. He has breathed it and truly known it throughout his life.
His passion shames me. He didn't know anything about us or our "religious" background, yet he unapologetically shared his love for the highly controversial God that he worshiped. He wasn't pushy or even bold, necessarily. He was as much like a giddy child as I imagine God would want us to be about Him.
He thanked God for crossing our paths and told us he was blessed to be talking with us. I told him he had that backwards :)
We got ready and strolled down to breakfast and watched waves lick the sand while we casually ate our bagels and sipped Puerto Rican coffee.
At that point in the morning, neither of us felt ambitious enough to swim or do the touristy things we're looking forward to doing, but we still wanted to drink in some warm ocean air. So we decided to bask on the front steps of our hotel. He with his laptop, and me with my journal. We spent nearly 2 hours sitting on those steps.
Parking around San Juan is pretty sparse, so this hotel utilizes valet parking. The driver stands outside the building to help intercept patrons as they arrive. Since he was waiting out front, and we were sitting out front, our 2 hours of leisure activities were interspersed with conversation with him.
His English was really quite good, and he had one of the best, most optimistic attitudes I've ever encountered. He is the self-proclaimed "happiest man on earth." He said someone else could be as happy as him, but not happier.
He is in love with God and is excited to talk about it. He goes to ghettos and the jail and to where the drug dealers and prostitutes hang out to tell them about Jesus and about how there's a better life to be had. His voice broke at one point when describing how these people are caught and stuck and can't see their way out.
He told us that God knew what He was doing putting him in Puerto Rico. He's lived here his whole 56 years and loves the ocean and the sky. He told me that I need to write this analogy down and tell my kids:
The ocean is like God's love. It's vast and deep. Like His love, you can see where the ocean starts, but not where it ends. And like the waves effortlessly and constantly come into shore, His love is coming at us continually. We can't control it or add to it.
Rodney also pointed out that if you saw a guy carrying water from a lake to the ocean or pouring in the purest bottled water because he thought he could improve the ocean, you'd say he was crazy.
The general concept of that analogy isn't new to me. But it's something that he knows. Not just an idea. He has breathed it and truly known it throughout his life.
His passion shames me. He didn't know anything about us or our "religious" background, yet he unapologetically shared his love for the highly controversial God that he worshiped. He wasn't pushy or even bold, necessarily. He was as much like a giddy child as I imagine God would want us to be about Him.
He thanked God for crossing our paths and told us he was blessed to be talking with us. I told him he had that backwards :)
Puerto Rico Facts and Stories
The temperature in Wisconsin this morning was -21. On the coast of the Atlantic, where I'm sitting now, it is 93. We woke up this morning at 7:00 to the blazing sun slicing through our white curtains like they were no more than cellophane.
I journaled this morning, and it was physically difficult write out the word "January" while sitting in the humid air, filled with the voices of birds and the swish of palm trees. I felt like I was lying to my own journal. I misspelled the word, in fact.
I have found it difficult to write about the beauty of this place because I'm so distracted by it that I can't focus on a paper page. I love being wowed by our Creator.
The people here are incredibly nice. We haven't engaged in conversation with locals just strolling around. Everyone we've met has been working at the places we patronize. But they're wonderful. Not rushed, but smiling and patient with our communication barriers. And they're not slow by any means either. It's as if we're authentically guests everywhere we go.
Despite the kindness we've encountered, properties are walled off with razor-wire-topped cement, often 8 feet tall. The area is also laced with a STRONG police presence. We've traveled around the US a lot, and we have never seen so many emergency vehicles or heard such a stream of sirens.
I asked someone about it, and he credited drugs. He said that when he was a boy growing up here, people would sleep with their doors and windows open and think nothing of it. He mentioned that he could leave his bike outside and it would stay there. But once drugs move in, they bring out a whole new group of people. People to deal them, people to use them, and people to commit crimes to get them.
On a lighter note, when we first came into town, we passed a place called "Steak and Sushi." Rodney commented that it sounded good, and my CFO-of-the-trip brain said it sounded expensive.
Last night, about 9:00 local, we decided to go out walking in search of food. I had forgotten about the place by then, but he walked us straight to it. I knew that if I said "No," he would hound me all week. So why not get it out of the way?
First off, there were no forks or knives. That turned out to be okay, because there was no steak-- or beef of any kind. Instead, we were given menus filled, front and back, with sushi. Everything from spicy crab or tuna to octopus and even spider sushi. I managed to find a non-seafood avocado salad. An avocado is $1, and my salad was $8, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. But i really like raw avocado, and it seemed like a better option than $15 sushi I would hate.
Off subject, everyone here only serves bottled water. I was a little concerned, but after talking to someone who spoke English well enough to ask, I learned that Puerto Rico's drinking water is indeed safe. So now you know.
Our food came quickly, and Rodney got down to business with his sushi. My bowl of lettuce and avocados DOUSED in teriyaki waited for me to try outsmarting the tiny wooden sticks in my hand. I think I cut years off the non-arthritic life of my hands trying to eat my distasteful, small, overpriced salad that I didn't even finish.
We walked from there to a Taco Bell where we were preceded in line by a pile of drunk, American teenagers-- maybe college age. They were trying to be funny, but in so doing, I think they insulted the sweet kid behind the register. Their ring leader then noticed the kid wearing plastic bags over his shoes and asked why. His English was poor, so he simply pointed to the kitchen floor and tugged up on the legs of his pants in a gesture one would make if walking through muck. None of us completely understood, so he bent down and slipped off one of the Taco Bell bags to reveal the crisp, black Pumas he was protecting form kitchen gunk. The Americans let out a simultaneous, universal "Ahhh" of understanding. We later snapped a picture of the bagged cashier. It was pretty funny-looking :)
I recommend getting a GPS with your rental car, if you visit this paradise. I have never seen people drive like they do here. It's still on the right side of the road, like home, but the understood rules are just a little different. For instance, when turning left, it is common to see people pull out and completely block all traffic while waiting for the far lane to open up. Also, windy roads have dashed lines. And people pass cars without visibility of more than a car-length ahead. Add to these types of changes the fact that you don't have a clue where you're going or what the signs say/mean, there are no exit numbers or road signs, and a GPS becomes what we might call useful.
Restaurants around here are primarily outdoors, and they cook with wood.
San Juan has never been above 100 degrees or below 65. A few weeks ago, a "cold front" came through, angering the ocean and knocking the temps down to 75. The guy we talked to said that was considered "cold" around here.
We were told about ferries that you can pay $3 and ride to the Virgin Islands.
The rain forest is nice, but it requires lots of hiking up and down, so at 30 weeks pregnant, we will need to let that wait for a future trip.
There is snorkeling, jet skiing, bioluminescent cave exploring, parasailing, kayaking, and so many many other things to do here. We do not have enough time to do or see the things we want to. This is a place I would recommend to anyone-- but plan for more than 4 days :)
I journaled this morning, and it was physically difficult write out the word "January" while sitting in the humid air, filled with the voices of birds and the swish of palm trees. I felt like I was lying to my own journal. I misspelled the word, in fact.
I have found it difficult to write about the beauty of this place because I'm so distracted by it that I can't focus on a paper page. I love being wowed by our Creator.
The people here are incredibly nice. We haven't engaged in conversation with locals just strolling around. Everyone we've met has been working at the places we patronize. But they're wonderful. Not rushed, but smiling and patient with our communication barriers. And they're not slow by any means either. It's as if we're authentically guests everywhere we go.
Despite the kindness we've encountered, properties are walled off with razor-wire-topped cement, often 8 feet tall. The area is also laced with a STRONG police presence. We've traveled around the US a lot, and we have never seen so many emergency vehicles or heard such a stream of sirens.
I asked someone about it, and he credited drugs. He said that when he was a boy growing up here, people would sleep with their doors and windows open and think nothing of it. He mentioned that he could leave his bike outside and it would stay there. But once drugs move in, they bring out a whole new group of people. People to deal them, people to use them, and people to commit crimes to get them.
On a lighter note, when we first came into town, we passed a place called "Steak and Sushi." Rodney commented that it sounded good, and my CFO-of-the-trip brain said it sounded expensive.
Last night, about 9:00 local, we decided to go out walking in search of food. I had forgotten about the place by then, but he walked us straight to it. I knew that if I said "No," he would hound me all week. So why not get it out of the way?
First off, there were no forks or knives. That turned out to be okay, because there was no steak-- or beef of any kind. Instead, we were given menus filled, front and back, with sushi. Everything from spicy crab or tuna to octopus and even spider sushi. I managed to find a non-seafood avocado salad. An avocado is $1, and my salad was $8, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. But i really like raw avocado, and it seemed like a better option than $15 sushi I would hate.
Off subject, everyone here only serves bottled water. I was a little concerned, but after talking to someone who spoke English well enough to ask, I learned that Puerto Rico's drinking water is indeed safe. So now you know.
Our food came quickly, and Rodney got down to business with his sushi. My bowl of lettuce and avocados DOUSED in teriyaki waited for me to try outsmarting the tiny wooden sticks in my hand. I think I cut years off the non-arthritic life of my hands trying to eat my distasteful, small, overpriced salad that I didn't even finish.
We walked from there to a Taco Bell where we were preceded in line by a pile of drunk, American teenagers-- maybe college age. They were trying to be funny, but in so doing, I think they insulted the sweet kid behind the register. Their ring leader then noticed the kid wearing plastic bags over his shoes and asked why. His English was poor, so he simply pointed to the kitchen floor and tugged up on the legs of his pants in a gesture one would make if walking through muck. None of us completely understood, so he bent down and slipped off one of the Taco Bell bags to reveal the crisp, black Pumas he was protecting form kitchen gunk. The Americans let out a simultaneous, universal "Ahhh" of understanding. We later snapped a picture of the bagged cashier. It was pretty funny-looking :)
I recommend getting a GPS with your rental car, if you visit this paradise. I have never seen people drive like they do here. It's still on the right side of the road, like home, but the understood rules are just a little different. For instance, when turning left, it is common to see people pull out and completely block all traffic while waiting for the far lane to open up. Also, windy roads have dashed lines. And people pass cars without visibility of more than a car-length ahead. Add to these types of changes the fact that you don't have a clue where you're going or what the signs say/mean, there are no exit numbers or road signs, and a GPS becomes what we might call useful.
Restaurants around here are primarily outdoors, and they cook with wood.
San Juan has never been above 100 degrees or below 65. A few weeks ago, a "cold front" came through, angering the ocean and knocking the temps down to 75. The guy we talked to said that was considered "cold" around here.
We were told about ferries that you can pay $3 and ride to the Virgin Islands.
The rain forest is nice, but it requires lots of hiking up and down, so at 30 weeks pregnant, we will need to let that wait for a future trip.
There is snorkeling, jet skiing, bioluminescent cave exploring, parasailing, kayaking, and so many many other things to do here. We do not have enough time to do or see the things we want to. This is a place I would recommend to anyone-- but plan for more than 4 days :)
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
A man challenge
This particular post is bring written primarily to men. That being said, I'll put my main point first and add the supportive fluff second.
You should read and do the Love Dare.
Do you want to know why? Okay well first, do you know what it is? There's a movie that came out a few years ago called Fireproof. It has cheesy acting, but it's good. The movie revolves around a dissatisfied, argumentative married couple with a very disrespectful wife. Like any good movie, it of course lets the couple overcome their differences. Awe. But a main tool in the husband's ability to win his wife and rekindle his own feelings is his willingness to try the Love Dare that his dad gives him.
The movie is fictional, but the book used in it is real. You can pick it up at Barnes & Noble or half.com or wherever. It has a "dare" to complete every day for 40 days. Some are as simple as doing something thoughtful for your wife. Some are as tough as choosing to let her win (and burying) the thing you most often disagree about.
But it puts her at the front of your thoughts every day for 40 days (or longer if you take off "Dare" days for vacations, traveling, holidays, etc). This thinking process helps to transport you to your youthful dating era when she was your crown and when the one thing you wanted was to have her as your own.
It seems like once you've walked her down that aisle, your desire to woo her dissipates. You no longer plan date nights or think of ways to pursue her. The hunt is done.
Guys, here's a freebie: women always want to be pursued. I can't give you a reason, except that we've been wired for that desire. Our hearts are tender and needy and demand constant attention and fine-tuning.
Your hearts are a little like weed-whacker engines. They need fuel and oil (sex in your case) and to be utilized (respected). Our hearts are more like jumbo jet engines requiring precise alignment and constant tweaking. If you leave us without proper maintenance, another curious mechanic will inevitably wander by and start to tinker.
This is not a threat. It's something I've seen over and over. Your wife needs to KNOW that you love her and want her in your life.
Maybe she's pushy or nags a lot. You don't get "guys night" enough. She wears the pants.
Let me ask you, when did you take them off? You gave her a ring and then sat back to gradually let her take on most of the relationship's responsibility. She cares for you and tends to the house, bills, meals, kids, dance classes and soccer practices. The heavy load of planning, preparing, and running things was shifted to her shoulders.
Guess what. We don't want your stinking pants! Every woman, no matter how strong she is, wants to be led by a courageous man of integrity. The problem is that for year now, Society and the Media have beat you guys down like an old rug. You've been generalized into a group of unintelligent thugs worth only the paycheck you hand over before plopping your proverbial worthless butt on the couch.
I'm not going to pretend like I know how to change that image. Other people have written books on THAT topic.
But your wife wants to be treated special. She longs to be cared for and protected. By you!
Going through the Love Dare forces you to treat your wife as you did when you were dating. I would encourage you to give it a shot and notice how her heart turns and softens. Wait and see what happens to your marriage.
I also think it's a good idea to start the Dare with a friend to help keep each of you accountable. Like I mentioned earlier, some of the dares are rather difficult, and it's helpful to have someone to bounce ideas off of AND help you not slack off and quit.
One last thing: don't tell your wife you're doing it. It's exciting to watch your spouse's attitude begin to change without her being clued in to the fact that you're going through a stupid book. It's a really neat endeavor, and I would LOVE to hear feedback in March about how your marriages have changed.
Good luck!
You should read and do the Love Dare.
Do you want to know why? Okay well first, do you know what it is? There's a movie that came out a few years ago called Fireproof. It has cheesy acting, but it's good. The movie revolves around a dissatisfied, argumentative married couple with a very disrespectful wife. Like any good movie, it of course lets the couple overcome their differences. Awe. But a main tool in the husband's ability to win his wife and rekindle his own feelings is his willingness to try the Love Dare that his dad gives him.
The movie is fictional, but the book used in it is real. You can pick it up at Barnes & Noble or half.com or wherever. It has a "dare" to complete every day for 40 days. Some are as simple as doing something thoughtful for your wife. Some are as tough as choosing to let her win (and burying) the thing you most often disagree about.
But it puts her at the front of your thoughts every day for 40 days (or longer if you take off "Dare" days for vacations, traveling, holidays, etc). This thinking process helps to transport you to your youthful dating era when she was your crown and when the one thing you wanted was to have her as your own.
It seems like once you've walked her down that aisle, your desire to woo her dissipates. You no longer plan date nights or think of ways to pursue her. The hunt is done.
Guys, here's a freebie: women always want to be pursued. I can't give you a reason, except that we've been wired for that desire. Our hearts are tender and needy and demand constant attention and fine-tuning.
Your hearts are a little like weed-whacker engines. They need fuel and oil (sex in your case) and to be utilized (respected). Our hearts are more like jumbo jet engines requiring precise alignment and constant tweaking. If you leave us without proper maintenance, another curious mechanic will inevitably wander by and start to tinker.
This is not a threat. It's something I've seen over and over. Your wife needs to KNOW that you love her and want her in your life.
Maybe she's pushy or nags a lot. You don't get "guys night" enough. She wears the pants.
Let me ask you, when did you take them off? You gave her a ring and then sat back to gradually let her take on most of the relationship's responsibility. She cares for you and tends to the house, bills, meals, kids, dance classes and soccer practices. The heavy load of planning, preparing, and running things was shifted to her shoulders.
Guess what. We don't want your stinking pants! Every woman, no matter how strong she is, wants to be led by a courageous man of integrity. The problem is that for year now, Society and the Media have beat you guys down like an old rug. You've been generalized into a group of unintelligent thugs worth only the paycheck you hand over before plopping your proverbial worthless butt on the couch.
I'm not going to pretend like I know how to change that image. Other people have written books on THAT topic.
But your wife wants to be treated special. She longs to be cared for and protected. By you!
Going through the Love Dare forces you to treat your wife as you did when you were dating. I would encourage you to give it a shot and notice how her heart turns and softens. Wait and see what happens to your marriage.
I also think it's a good idea to start the Dare with a friend to help keep each of you accountable. Like I mentioned earlier, some of the dares are rather difficult, and it's helpful to have someone to bounce ideas off of AND help you not slack off and quit.
One last thing: don't tell your wife you're doing it. It's exciting to watch your spouse's attitude begin to change without her being clued in to the fact that you're going through a stupid book. It's a really neat endeavor, and I would LOVE to hear feedback in March about how your marriages have changed.
Good luck!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Spiral of Apathy
This afternoon, my kids were sleeping and the only sound in the house was the dryer dragging zippers and snaps along its belly walls. I poured the last of my egg nog into a small cup and sat down with my Bible and some scratch paper.
I began praying through the things on my mind: friends having trouble, people in need of healing, etc. My husband passed through, so I prayed for him too. But it only served to remind me of how terrible our date night went last night. It wasn't "terrible" like an exciting movie. It was just full of apathy and disagreement. Not arguing even. Just irritating, stubborn, uncompromising back and forth.
"What do you want to do now?"
"Let's go to the mall and just walk around."
"I don't feel like walking. I'm too full from dinner."
"Well we could just go to the book store and chill."
"I don't really want to go to the mall at all."
"Okay, let's go grab a game and sit at Caribou and play."
"I'm too full to get anything from Caribou. We could go hang out at the office and watch Netflix."
On and on we went, wasting fuel and quickly losing any semblance of the needed "spark" that date nights can throw into the marital relationship.
So in addition to praying for my husband, I asked God to bless our marriage with a fullness. To take away my expectations that are so often the cause of our disputes. To let me truly be a help mate and be excited about it.
I started also to pray for the marriages of people around me. Couple after couple after couple I listed off to God. All of us living "okay" marriages. And I started to wonder what the deal was with that?
When we're first dating, we're excited to see each other-- to spend time together. It doesn't matter what our friends think or if we actually have the time or money to do it, we WILL be with that amazing person. And when we're not with them, we think and talk about them constantly.
If a couple dates long enough before exchanging rings, the relationship begins to have obligation tossed into it. The newness wears off, and you say things to "the guys" like "I'll be late tonight. My girl wants to spend some time with me." And while you may not mind it terribly at that point, there comes a time when the wife's desire to invade "Man Night" is an irritating nuisance.
At this point in my life, my husband and I have 2 nights a week that aren't scheduled with things. They are precious nights that only warrant a few options: 1) have people over/entertain guests, 2) one person can go out while the other stays home with kids, 3) we can both go out on a date, or 4) we can stay home and spend time with the kids together.
Who wants 4 options? When I stood at the alter and said "I do," I don't remember a part in there that said "I promise to make our lives too busy to enjoy each other."
Why do we live like this? When couples date, they mainly have evenings free to be together, right? And aren't some of those nights busy too? What about money? Were there not consequences to our foolish spending on one another back then? Why are we so afraid to spend it on each other now?
I really really want to know these things. If I'm writing a book about marriage, I feel like I need answers to basic things like this. So now it's your turn. What are you "two cents?"
I began praying through the things on my mind: friends having trouble, people in need of healing, etc. My husband passed through, so I prayed for him too. But it only served to remind me of how terrible our date night went last night. It wasn't "terrible" like an exciting movie. It was just full of apathy and disagreement. Not arguing even. Just irritating, stubborn, uncompromising back and forth.
"What do you want to do now?"
"Let's go to the mall and just walk around."
"I don't feel like walking. I'm too full from dinner."
"Well we could just go to the book store and chill."
"I don't really want to go to the mall at all."
"Okay, let's go grab a game and sit at Caribou and play."
"I'm too full to get anything from Caribou. We could go hang out at the office and watch Netflix."
On and on we went, wasting fuel and quickly losing any semblance of the needed "spark" that date nights can throw into the marital relationship.
So in addition to praying for my husband, I asked God to bless our marriage with a fullness. To take away my expectations that are so often the cause of our disputes. To let me truly be a help mate and be excited about it.
I started also to pray for the marriages of people around me. Couple after couple after couple I listed off to God. All of us living "okay" marriages. And I started to wonder what the deal was with that?
When we're first dating, we're excited to see each other-- to spend time together. It doesn't matter what our friends think or if we actually have the time or money to do it, we WILL be with that amazing person. And when we're not with them, we think and talk about them constantly.
If a couple dates long enough before exchanging rings, the relationship begins to have obligation tossed into it. The newness wears off, and you say things to "the guys" like "I'll be late tonight. My girl wants to spend some time with me." And while you may not mind it terribly at that point, there comes a time when the wife's desire to invade "Man Night" is an irritating nuisance.
At this point in my life, my husband and I have 2 nights a week that aren't scheduled with things. They are precious nights that only warrant a few options: 1) have people over/entertain guests, 2) one person can go out while the other stays home with kids, 3) we can both go out on a date, or 4) we can stay home and spend time with the kids together.
Who wants 4 options? When I stood at the alter and said "I do," I don't remember a part in there that said "I promise to make our lives too busy to enjoy each other."
Why do we live like this? When couples date, they mainly have evenings free to be together, right? And aren't some of those nights busy too? What about money? Were there not consequences to our foolish spending on one another back then? Why are we so afraid to spend it on each other now?
I really really want to know these things. If I'm writing a book about marriage, I feel like I need answers to basic things like this. So now it's your turn. What are you "two cents?"
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Joseph's Sacrifice
I'm on the worship team at church-- meaning I play the piano in the church band. Sunday morning, I wanted to review the music so I had an idea of what we would be playing. We had plans to do a new song that morning. So I grabbed my chord sheet, set up a YouTube video of the song, and sat down with my bowl of cereal and my 4-year-old daughter.
The song is called "Joseph's Lullaby," so it goes without saying that it's from the perspective of Jesus' daddy. It has lyrics like:
"Go to sleep my Son
Go and chase Your dreams
This world can wait for one more moment
Go and sleep in peace"
and
"Lord, I ask that He for just this moment
Simply be my child"
and the killer line
"Soon enough You'll save the day
But for now, dear Child of mine
Oh my Jesus, Sleep tight."
My brain inserted my son's name into the "Jesus" slot: "Oh my Jeremiah, sleep tight." I thought about the tremendous sacrifice Joseph had to make. It's something I haven't considered in a long time. When my son was a newborn, I thought (and cried) often about God separating Himself from the eternal bond with His Son. I wouldn't give my son to save anyone-- let alone myriads of people who would only reject him and spit in his sweet face. I do not love anyone enough to give that gift.
Sunday, I thought about Joseph and how he KNEW his precious boy was not his. That He would grow up and "save the world." He would only make it to about the age my husband is now.
Oh, to know with certainty that my child would die. Too many parents experience this news from somber doctors. I am so very blessed to be able to hold my healthy son, oblivious to what his future holds. Not that he's mine anyway. But I like to feel like he is :)
These thoughts filled my mind Sunday morning, and I began to cry. My very concerned daughter worked her way around the table to comfort me, all the while hosting saucer-sized eyes, and asking what was wrong.
She knows who Jesus and God are, but it's all vague. I tried explaining that they're the same, but that Jesus was sent here as a baby. He had to grow up and die. His mommy knew He would need to do this, and I was thinking about how sad that was, even though it was GREAT news for us. It's like explaining physics to a fly. She assured me that she wouldn't die.
It's such an amazing story, riddled with complexities and mystery. I am SO grateful that He came for me. That He was willing to put Mary and Joseph through what He did so that I could know Him. And if it's not enough just to know Him, He's given me freedom and a full life.
I cannot begin to comprehend the amount of work, planning, and sacrifice that went into giving me-- ME-- the ability to have the relationship I do with Him. Wow, You blow me away. Thanks :)
The song is called "Joseph's Lullaby," so it goes without saying that it's from the perspective of Jesus' daddy. It has lyrics like:
"Go to sleep my Son
Go and chase Your dreams
This world can wait for one more moment
Go and sleep in peace"
and
"Lord, I ask that He for just this moment
Simply be my child"
and the killer line
"Soon enough You'll save the day
But for now, dear Child of mine
Oh my Jesus, Sleep tight."
My brain inserted my son's name into the "Jesus" slot: "Oh my Jeremiah, sleep tight." I thought about the tremendous sacrifice Joseph had to make. It's something I haven't considered in a long time. When my son was a newborn, I thought (and cried) often about God separating Himself from the eternal bond with His Son. I wouldn't give my son to save anyone-- let alone myriads of people who would only reject him and spit in his sweet face. I do not love anyone enough to give that gift.
Sunday, I thought about Joseph and how he KNEW his precious boy was not his. That He would grow up and "save the world." He would only make it to about the age my husband is now.
Oh, to know with certainty that my child would die. Too many parents experience this news from somber doctors. I am so very blessed to be able to hold my healthy son, oblivious to what his future holds. Not that he's mine anyway. But I like to feel like he is :)
These thoughts filled my mind Sunday morning, and I began to cry. My very concerned daughter worked her way around the table to comfort me, all the while hosting saucer-sized eyes, and asking what was wrong.
She knows who Jesus and God are, but it's all vague. I tried explaining that they're the same, but that Jesus was sent here as a baby. He had to grow up and die. His mommy knew He would need to do this, and I was thinking about how sad that was, even though it was GREAT news for us. It's like explaining physics to a fly. She assured me that she wouldn't die.
It's such an amazing story, riddled with complexities and mystery. I am SO grateful that He came for me. That He was willing to put Mary and Joseph through what He did so that I could know Him. And if it's not enough just to know Him, He's given me freedom and a full life.
I cannot begin to comprehend the amount of work, planning, and sacrifice that went into giving me-- ME-- the ability to have the relationship I do with Him. Wow, You blow me away. Thanks :)
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