I am reading a book in which the author wrote himself a letter at the age of 20 which remained sealed until he was 40. What an interesting idea! Unfortunately I am such a boring twenty-something that I'm not sure I would change all that much in 20 years--20 years of adulthood, that is. I have changed drastically in just 10 years growing from childhood to adulthood, however. I wish I had had the forethought to pen myself a letter 10 years ago; I wish I had done it 15 years ago. We are all so different as children, aren't we?
I was listening to my favorite radio station the other day (Air1) in which the cast was discussing how we as people tend to laugh less into adulthood. How many times per day do you laugh? I am sad to say that I laugh less than 10 times per day, and find it annoying when other people laugh like children. The fact is that I wish I laughed like a child more often. It's something that I miss.
I just recently shopped at our local library's annual book sale. There were fiction books, religious, historical, and children's, but the largest volume of books were of one kind: romance novels. There is a reason that women are drawn toward romantic books and movies. It's the love story. We all miss it. Even as a happily married wife of going-on 5 years I miss the story of our love. I miss the "falling", and I think a lot of others do as well. It's not that I'm not happy; it's not even that I'm bored. I miss the goofy, laugh of my love. I miss the good-hearted, belly-laugh of my life. Where did it go?
If I had written myself a letter 10 years ago, knowing what I know now it would go something like this:
Rachel,
By now you are 26. I have no idea what types of things you'll be doing. You may have kids. Maybe you have a job, a husband, maybe a dog or cat. All I know is what I am. I'm a 16 year old. I'm a new driver, a rebellious daughter, a thriving student, and a Christian. That sounds like just about every 16 year old, right (well, maybe not the bit about a thriving student)?
Truth-be-told I'm a new driver, but I am pretty good at it. I drive a giant truck, one known around town as "Big Blacky". My big brother taught me to drive it, teaching me how a stick-shift works, and telling me that if I could drive that big truck I could drive anything. It felt pretty awesome to get such a compliment from him. I hope you remember that. I may be a rebellious teenager, but there are a lot of people around me that rally around me; they want the best for me. Because they are all here I know that they will still be here when I screw up. Remember them--remember who is here right now. I don't appreciate them now, but maybe you will. I am a thriving student, but what you don't know is that I don't really try that hard. Maybe if I tried I'd do a lot better. Remember that. Remember that I'm not trying all that hard at 16 and doing great, so if you aren't trying all that hard at 26, try harder. Do better. You can do just about anything, can't you? Remember that. Finally, I'm a Christian. Sometimes a hard pill to swallow for a 16 year old, yes. But I love it. I love this great big God I serve, the church family I have, the morals my parents instilled in me, and even the funny looks I get sometimes for going to church on Saturday.
I sound pretty solid, huh? That being said, if you're in any way screwed up at 26, it's your doing, not mine. What's great about it is that you can always fix it, can't you? Don't forget who I am. Don't forget who you were, and who you can be.
Rachel
That might be how the 16 year old me would write to me through a decade of time. However, if she could speak to me, face to face, she'd say something like "you may be happy, but you used to make people happy. You may smile a lot, but you used to make people smile a lot. You may enjoy the innocence of your children, but you used to be one of them. LAUGH!!". How we forget this as adults.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
And Then There Were 3
As week 39 looms ahead of me I am wondering just how much another baby is about to change my life. This past week my husband and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary. In four years we have been through a deployment, numerous reintegration and relationship issues, four pregnancies including 1 miscarriage and one birth to come (hopefully any day now). We have moved 5 times, gone through NINE vehicles, and I've put on roughly 40 lbs.
We have not seen eye to eye, stood toe to toe, and had our share of passionate arguments. In those 4 years we have almost called it quits, but fought through. We have fallen in love several times, and still woo each other as often as we can.
It's been a LONG 4 years, and we finall have a groove. Probably other couples may not use that word. Some couples may call it a "rut", but I like the groove we are in. Sometimes comfortable is nice. It may have taken 4 years and a lot of work, but we finally move together. Even if we don't agree or see eye to eye all the time, at least we understand each others' points of view. I was thinking today about divorce and how high the rates are in America, and how common it is to rule it as "irreconcilable differences". I have realized though that there aren't any "irreconcilable differences". If Jesus can be reconciled to us after all we've done, then we can be reconciled to each other, no matter what the "difference" is.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not on a witch-hunt for divorcees. If I was it would have to start with me. My only point is that I intend to start another year of marriage with this in mind: I want to be happy everyday with the one I love. If that means reconciling differences everyday, then I'm fine with that. If I have to say "I'm wrong", "I'm sorry", "forgive me", etc. a hundred times this coming year it will be less that I predict. I'm just at the point where I want to spend time with my husband and kids. I don't want to be sulking in the shower behind a locked door (which is what I do when I'm mad). I'd rather talk to him than give him the silent treatment. I have done my fair share of picking fights for 4 years now, and I'm just not going to do it anymore. Taking a premise from a well-known relationship expert who wrote Love & Respect, I am jumping off the "crazy cycle" and jumping into my hubby's arms (it's much more comfortable there). With this in mind I am confident that a third baby will only be a blessing in this house, because I've never been happier. We all know the saying "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Well I think that works both ways.
Now enough of this mooshy gooshy stuff. My next blog will be about gun violence and crime statistics. (just kidding)...
We have not seen eye to eye, stood toe to toe, and had our share of passionate arguments. In those 4 years we have almost called it quits, but fought through. We have fallen in love several times, and still woo each other as often as we can.
It's been a LONG 4 years, and we finall have a groove. Probably other couples may not use that word. Some couples may call it a "rut", but I like the groove we are in. Sometimes comfortable is nice. It may have taken 4 years and a lot of work, but we finally move together. Even if we don't agree or see eye to eye all the time, at least we understand each others' points of view. I was thinking today about divorce and how high the rates are in America, and how common it is to rule it as "irreconcilable differences". I have realized though that there aren't any "irreconcilable differences". If Jesus can be reconciled to us after all we've done, then we can be reconciled to each other, no matter what the "difference" is.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not on a witch-hunt for divorcees. If I was it would have to start with me. My only point is that I intend to start another year of marriage with this in mind: I want to be happy everyday with the one I love. If that means reconciling differences everyday, then I'm fine with that. If I have to say "I'm wrong", "I'm sorry", "forgive me", etc. a hundred times this coming year it will be less that I predict. I'm just at the point where I want to spend time with my husband and kids. I don't want to be sulking in the shower behind a locked door (which is what I do when I'm mad). I'd rather talk to him than give him the silent treatment. I have done my fair share of picking fights for 4 years now, and I'm just not going to do it anymore. Taking a premise from a well-known relationship expert who wrote Love & Respect, I am jumping off the "crazy cycle" and jumping into my hubby's arms (it's much more comfortable there). With this in mind I am confident that a third baby will only be a blessing in this house, because I've never been happier. We all know the saying "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Well I think that works both ways.
Now enough of this mooshy gooshy stuff. My next blog will be about gun violence and crime statistics. (just kidding)...
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Happy Valentine's Day
Today is Valentine's Day.
Men and women in pink and red aisles at the nearest Walmart.
Couples in love smiling over a Maple Butter Blondie,
snuggling in a booth,
giggling into each other's hair.
Long lines at the movies.
Traffic at every light.
Little hands holding Mama hands,
Candies in pockets and balloons on wrists.
From my booth, slurping up my noodles, and leaning into my husby's arm, this Valentine's Day seems like a happy one for everyone I see. But it's the people I don't see who may not be celebrating.
I remember a time when I didn't want to leave the house on this day--when I grumbled under my breath at every passing hand-holding couple. I remember when I was the girl who didn't have anyone and didn't care...
Only I did.
I only hope that all the people shedding tears today will have a smile a year from now when they're waiting 15 minutes for a table, and then an hour for their food, 5 minutes for a fork, and fending off smoke because the only available table was in the smoking section. I hope there is someone sharing a table with them that makes it all worth it :)
Men and women in pink and red aisles at the nearest Walmart.
Couples in love smiling over a Maple Butter Blondie,
snuggling in a booth,
giggling into each other's hair.
Long lines at the movies.
Traffic at every light.
Little hands holding Mama hands,
Candies in pockets and balloons on wrists.
From my booth, slurping up my noodles, and leaning into my husby's arm, this Valentine's Day seems like a happy one for everyone I see. But it's the people I don't see who may not be celebrating.
I remember a time when I didn't want to leave the house on this day--when I grumbled under my breath at every passing hand-holding couple. I remember when I was the girl who didn't have anyone and didn't care...
Only I did.
I only hope that all the people shedding tears today will have a smile a year from now when they're waiting 15 minutes for a table, and then an hour for their food, 5 minutes for a fork, and fending off smoke because the only available table was in the smoking section. I hope there is someone sharing a table with them that makes it all worth it :)
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Why We Trick-Or-Treat
I grew up in Christian home. We did all those things that typical Christians do: went to church every week, spent time with the elderly and sick, went to mid-week service, youth group, and prayer group, participated in Christmas and Easter programs. We even had family worship, and my parents taught us all about Jesus, His sacrifice, and saving grace. I think we can all agree that many times a person or an entire family can live the life I just described and still not be a 'Christian'.
Sure, a lot of people say they are Christian because they go through the motions, abide by the rules, learn what's expected of them and do it. Reading this some people may think that's exactly what my family was doing, but they'd be wrong. See, my parents never once forced any of us kids to participate in church or religion in general. I'm sure that had any of us rebelled against it we would've been expected to at least keep the Sabbath while under their roof, but generally my parents left it up to us.
What they did might frighten some Christian parents. It may downright upset some altogether. What my parents did was teach us all they could about God at every opportunity, give us every chance we wanted or needed to experience God's love through service to others or fellowship with other Christians, and then they let us do what we wanted.
So...
Every Sabbath we were in church.
Every Wednesday we were at Pathfinders (most of us liked it so much we went on to lead out as adults).
Once a month we went to a nursing home after church to sing to the elderly.
Every fall we would collect canned goods for the needy.
Every Christmas we would sing our hearts out at the Christmas program.
And we did all this of our own volition.
It's true, we as a family were highly involved in church, but I don't think anyone ever questioned our motives--not even when we sometimes had the opportunity to just be kids.
I can definitely account for at least 6 Halloweens in my childhood that I dressed up and went Trick-or-Treating. I'm sure there were more, but I know for sure I went those years because I remember my costumes. Once I was an angel, two years I was The Little Mermaid, two years I was Pocahontas, and at least once I was a hippie. I can say with complete sincerity that my dressing up and traveling the neighborhood with droves of other young children in the spirit of fun did not diminish or damage my relationship with God in the slightest way. I will go further and say that none of those other children that I spent most days with, that saw me in the hallways at school, or played with me in our yards in evenings thought any less of me as a sincere Christian because of my participation in the activity.
My parents' three fun-loving, and church-going children didn't return home after Trick-or-Treating with a mean or evil spirit. Mostly we just shared laughs and candy.
It's not the healthiest holiday (but none are). It doesn't have the brightest story in history books. It costs money (unless you are good with a sewing machine or paper mache), and takes time.
But that is how memories are made. I have many memories from my childhood, most have to do with church trips or Pathfinder trips, family camping trips, and holidays. What I remember about Halloween is that it was a lot of fun to Trick-or-Treat with my brothers and parents and friends. It is my oldest brother's birthday, so we got to have birthday cake and Halloween candy.
I also always seem to remember a story about a little boy that my parents new from college. They were all in college for ministry, and this little boy wanted to go Trick-or-Treating, so his parents took him. He dressed like the devil complete with the red suit, pitchfork, and pointed tail. When at one house he was asked if he could do a trick for some candy he stood as straight as he could, his chest out so proud, and sang "Jesus Loves Me" in his devil outfit.
Now, my sons are still a little young for such tricks, but some that my oldest knows is how to pray, how to share, and how to love. He knows some Bible stories and truths about our Lord. The truth is that these aren't tricks at all. They are our lifestyle. Sure, every year we carve a pumpkin for our porch, we let him pick out a Halloween costume, walk door to door with a bag for candy, and he brightens faces behind every door with his smile. For now this is what Halloween is about for him. He has a lot of fun, and so do we. When we start handing out candy we may attach something to the candy to give the kids a little something meaningful, but when we don't get that stuff in our kids' bags, it doesn't upset us. Our kids learn all about God through our lifestyle. They don't unlearn it over one night of Trick-or-Treating.
So this Halloween when you open the door, one of the many Batman faces you see will be with me. I hope he and his cowboy comrade (his little brother) bring you some joy, because they sure get joy out of Trick-or-Treating.
I urge everyone to educate themselves and make your own choices regarding holidays. Where there seems to always be 'Pagan roots' to many of our beloved holidays, there are also Christian ones. To many holiday traditions are just a time to spend with family anyway, and so I say Celebrate! But please remember, if you study the history and decide not to celebrate a holiday in a certain way, be careful not to judge others who still do. It may not take away from their Christian experience in the least, and who are you to make that judgment anyway?
This website (Celebrating Holidays) is very helpful, not only to explain the Christian history of every major holiday, but also includes activities and hints to keep holidays wholesome. I encourage anyone on the fence to check it out. And if you decide to go Trick-or-Treating be SAFE and HEALTHY!
Sure, a lot of people say they are Christian because they go through the motions, abide by the rules, learn what's expected of them and do it. Reading this some people may think that's exactly what my family was doing, but they'd be wrong. See, my parents never once forced any of us kids to participate in church or religion in general. I'm sure that had any of us rebelled against it we would've been expected to at least keep the Sabbath while under their roof, but generally my parents left it up to us.
What they did might frighten some Christian parents. It may downright upset some altogether. What my parents did was teach us all they could about God at every opportunity, give us every chance we wanted or needed to experience God's love through service to others or fellowship with other Christians, and then they let us do what we wanted.
So...
Every Sabbath we were in church.
Every Wednesday we were at Pathfinders (most of us liked it so much we went on to lead out as adults).
Once a month we went to a nursing home after church to sing to the elderly.
Every fall we would collect canned goods for the needy.
Every Christmas we would sing our hearts out at the Christmas program.
And we did all this of our own volition.
It's true, we as a family were highly involved in church, but I don't think anyone ever questioned our motives--not even when we sometimes had the opportunity to just be kids.
I can definitely account for at least 6 Halloweens in my childhood that I dressed up and went Trick-or-Treating. I'm sure there were more, but I know for sure I went those years because I remember my costumes. Once I was an angel, two years I was The Little Mermaid, two years I was Pocahontas, and at least once I was a hippie. I can say with complete sincerity that my dressing up and traveling the neighborhood with droves of other young children in the spirit of fun did not diminish or damage my relationship with God in the slightest way. I will go further and say that none of those other children that I spent most days with, that saw me in the hallways at school, or played with me in our yards in evenings thought any less of me as a sincere Christian because of my participation in the activity.
My parents' three fun-loving, and church-going children didn't return home after Trick-or-Treating with a mean or evil spirit. Mostly we just shared laughs and candy.
It's not the healthiest holiday (but none are). It doesn't have the brightest story in history books. It costs money (unless you are good with a sewing machine or paper mache), and takes time.
But that is how memories are made. I have many memories from my childhood, most have to do with church trips or Pathfinder trips, family camping trips, and holidays. What I remember about Halloween is that it was a lot of fun to Trick-or-Treat with my brothers and parents and friends. It is my oldest brother's birthday, so we got to have birthday cake and Halloween candy.
I also always seem to remember a story about a little boy that my parents new from college. They were all in college for ministry, and this little boy wanted to go Trick-or-Treating, so his parents took him. He dressed like the devil complete with the red suit, pitchfork, and pointed tail. When at one house he was asked if he could do a trick for some candy he stood as straight as he could, his chest out so proud, and sang "Jesus Loves Me" in his devil outfit.
Now, my sons are still a little young for such tricks, but some that my oldest knows is how to pray, how to share, and how to love. He knows some Bible stories and truths about our Lord. The truth is that these aren't tricks at all. They are our lifestyle. Sure, every year we carve a pumpkin for our porch, we let him pick out a Halloween costume, walk door to door with a bag for candy, and he brightens faces behind every door with his smile. For now this is what Halloween is about for him. He has a lot of fun, and so do we. When we start handing out candy we may attach something to the candy to give the kids a little something meaningful, but when we don't get that stuff in our kids' bags, it doesn't upset us. Our kids learn all about God through our lifestyle. They don't unlearn it over one night of Trick-or-Treating.
So this Halloween when you open the door, one of the many Batman faces you see will be with me. I hope he and his cowboy comrade (his little brother) bring you some joy, because they sure get joy out of Trick-or-Treating.
I urge everyone to educate themselves and make your own choices regarding holidays. Where there seems to always be 'Pagan roots' to many of our beloved holidays, there are also Christian ones. To many holiday traditions are just a time to spend with family anyway, and so I say Celebrate! But please remember, if you study the history and decide not to celebrate a holiday in a certain way, be careful not to judge others who still do. It may not take away from their Christian experience in the least, and who are you to make that judgment anyway?
This website (Celebrating Holidays) is very helpful, not only to explain the Christian history of every major holiday, but also includes activities and hints to keep holidays wholesome. I encourage anyone on the fence to check it out. And if you decide to go Trick-or-Treating be SAFE and HEALTHY!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
A Picture of God from Red
What happens when you listen to Christian music almost exclusively for a year and a half? Apparently what happens to this girl is that I go to buy a song from one of my favorite secular artists' new album and in my brain, turn it Christian. It's not a bad thing. My favorite song from Taylor Swift's new album Red, "The Last Time", can hurt if it reminds you of an old or current love, but the lyrics can be heartbreaking if it reminds you of God's love.
Maybe the lyrics speak to me in this way because I've been reading a book called Pursued by a Relentless God in which the author, Shawn Brace, explores the grace of God in a new light--or at least a light I've never explored or realized.
An interesting trend in modern spirituality seems to be an inclination toward mysticism, in which Christians are seeking God through various forms of prayer and meditation. Some people feel the only way to get close to God is to empty their minds and disconnect from their physical bodies through repetitive prayers and chants.
This is not a thesis about the dangers of contemplative prayers. I am just using this as an example because it is a hot issue in Christian circles. There are many examples of Christians attempting to get closer to God. One example is legalism; another is the participation in a pilgrimage. There are many ways in which we attempt to bring ourselves closer to God.
But what I'm learning through reading this book and studying God's Word is that God is already close to me.
He is pursuing me.
Think about that. Think about every way you have tried to sabotage your own salvation by pursuing mindless whims. Think about your life, however long. My life has been a long road of 26 years. Some may not think it long, but when you take into account all the mountains and valleys (many of which I placed in my own way), it has been a long journey. Now think about God's pursuit of you. How often did you find God when you sought him? I will be honest and say, most the time I was seeking God, I couldn't see Him, because my sin was in my way. All the times that I found God, it was because He was there, waiting for me.
With that in mind, read over this selection of lyrics from Taylor Swift's "The Last Time" and imagine that they are God's words to us:
"I find myself at your door,
Just like all those times before,
I’m not sure how I got there,
All roads they lead me here.
I imagine you are home,
In your room, all alone,
And you open your eyes into mine,
And everything feels better.
I'm right before your eyes,
I’m breaking.
No thoughts, no reasons why,
Just you and me…
This is the last time I’m asking you this-
Put my name at the top of your list,
This is the last time I’m asking you why,
You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye…
You find yourself at my door,
Just like all those times before,
You wear your best apology,
But I was there to watch you leave.
And all the times I let you in,
Just for you to go again,
Disappear when you come back,
Everything is better."
It being a secular song, not all of it 'fits', but this section really gets me thinking about God's pursuant love for us. If you haven't heard this song, it's a duet. The male character pursues the girl, ends up at her door. The female character keeps letting him in and letting him hurt her. That's generally how heartbreak works.
But God plays both parts. Not only does he pursue us relentlessly, ending up at our door time and again (Rev 3:20), but He also waits patiently for us to come to Him time and again "wearing our best apology", and once we've gotten what we want we leave.
The patience by which God waits for us comes from the Greek word makrothumia. The word originates from makros (long, far, distant) and thumos (an outburst of passion). This type of patience driven by the passion of God Himself is enough for Him not only to pursue us, but to keep letting us return.
It is the patience of a father when his child leaves the nest, makes terrible decisions, squanders love and money, and returns...again.
It is the patience of a mother, a phone call away, waiting for the need to arise, waiting to swoop in to the rescue.
Something I've learned about parents is that they pursue their children. They will also watch them leave again and again.
God is the same.
Because that patience is of God. His love, mercy, and passion drives that patience. No matter how many times I land on His doorstep, I can rest assured that He spent the night on mine. No matter how many times I break His heart by walking away, I imagine Him one step behind me.
How can I not love a God like that?
Maybe the lyrics speak to me in this way because I've been reading a book called Pursued by a Relentless God in which the author, Shawn Brace, explores the grace of God in a new light--or at least a light I've never explored or realized.
An interesting trend in modern spirituality seems to be an inclination toward mysticism, in which Christians are seeking God through various forms of prayer and meditation. Some people feel the only way to get close to God is to empty their minds and disconnect from their physical bodies through repetitive prayers and chants.
This is not a thesis about the dangers of contemplative prayers. I am just using this as an example because it is a hot issue in Christian circles. There are many examples of Christians attempting to get closer to God. One example is legalism; another is the participation in a pilgrimage. There are many ways in which we attempt to bring ourselves closer to God.
But what I'm learning through reading this book and studying God's Word is that God is already close to me.
He is pursuing me.
Think about that. Think about every way you have tried to sabotage your own salvation by pursuing mindless whims. Think about your life, however long. My life has been a long road of 26 years. Some may not think it long, but when you take into account all the mountains and valleys (many of which I placed in my own way), it has been a long journey. Now think about God's pursuit of you. How often did you find God when you sought him? I will be honest and say, most the time I was seeking God, I couldn't see Him, because my sin was in my way. All the times that I found God, it was because He was there, waiting for me.
With that in mind, read over this selection of lyrics from Taylor Swift's "The Last Time" and imagine that they are God's words to us:
"I find myself at your door,
Just like all those times before,
I’m not sure how I got there,
All roads they lead me here.
I imagine you are home,
In your room, all alone,
And you open your eyes into mine,
And everything feels better.
I'm right before your eyes,
I’m breaking.
No thoughts, no reasons why,
Just you and me…
This is the last time I’m asking you this-
Put my name at the top of your list,
This is the last time I’m asking you why,
You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye…
You find yourself at my door,
Just like all those times before,
You wear your best apology,
But I was there to watch you leave.
And all the times I let you in,
Just for you to go again,
Disappear when you come back,
Everything is better."
It being a secular song, not all of it 'fits', but this section really gets me thinking about God's pursuant love for us. If you haven't heard this song, it's a duet. The male character pursues the girl, ends up at her door. The female character keeps letting him in and letting him hurt her. That's generally how heartbreak works.
But God plays both parts. Not only does he pursue us relentlessly, ending up at our door time and again (Rev 3:20), but He also waits patiently for us to come to Him time and again "wearing our best apology", and once we've gotten what we want we leave.
The patience by which God waits for us comes from the Greek word makrothumia. The word originates from makros (long, far, distant) and thumos (an outburst of passion). This type of patience driven by the passion of God Himself is enough for Him not only to pursue us, but to keep letting us return.
It is the patience of a father when his child leaves the nest, makes terrible decisions, squanders love and money, and returns...again.
It is the patience of a mother, a phone call away, waiting for the need to arise, waiting to swoop in to the rescue.
Something I've learned about parents is that they pursue their children. They will also watch them leave again and again.
God is the same.
Because that patience is of God. His love, mercy, and passion drives that patience. No matter how many times I land on His doorstep, I can rest assured that He spent the night on mine. No matter how many times I break His heart by walking away, I imagine Him one step behind me.
How can I not love a God like that?
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Jesus Prays
I have just stumbled upon a passage in the scripture of John in which we get a glimpse of Jesus in an intimate prayer with His Father. There is something about Jesus' prayer here that draws my attention. Of course Jesus prayed throughout His life and ministry on earth, of that I'm sure. So why does this draw me so?
Do you have someone you speak to regularly, draw encouragement and strength from, and to whom you confide in in an intimate capacity? I have three of these confidants--my cousin, Ally, my mom, and my husband. When I speak to these people I rarely invite someone else into the conversation, nor do I discuss the issue outside of our conversation.
Of course I believe Jesus prayed actively and often throughout His life and ministry on this earth, but I always imagined His praying as a sort of intimate conversation between father and son (much like my talks with my mom). So what makes this instance any different?
One of the most known prayers of Jesus to His Father, I think, would be in the garden of Gethsemane before His arrest in which he pleads "Oh, my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt" (Matthew 26) He prays that prayer 3 times while trying to take comfort in his Father's presence through prayer, as well as His disciples' support (but they keep falling asleep). This prayer is a desperate one between a Father and a Son. Jesus knows His Father holds all authority, but when I read this prayer I think of a time when I may have called my mom up, tears streaming down my face, trying to come up with the words to identify my pain. Jesus' prayer here is short and distressed, but His Father knows His heart. This is the kind of prayer I had always pictured Jesus praying, until I found this one in John.
According to the gospel of Matthew this is the last prayer Jesus prayed before His arrest. It isn't recorded in John, though. In John we get a different picture of Jesus. I tend to think the prayer of John 17 came before that of Matthew, because the disciples are with Jesus, awake. In this prayer, in public (or in the presence of the disciples), Jesus takes on a different ere, one of authority, in which he prays for Himself, His disciples, and His Church. I think what draws me to John 17 so is the passionate love Jesus shows through His prayer. Remember, this is one of Jesus' last prayers to His Father before His arrest. He could be asking right then, "let this cup pass," but instead He prays for glorification--not for Himself, but so that God can be glorified through Him; He prays for the disciples--that they may be one, made perfect, that they may have Jesus' joy, that they will be kept from evil, that they be sanctified, and that they may be with Him in glory, and that they may have the love in them that God has for them. Really, the fact that God's final words are of love for His people and His church blows me away. I shouldn't be surprised, though. God is love, and Jesus is God in the flesh. Also, it's not just any prayer--not just a conversation between a father and a son. Jesus is taking on an ere of authority in this prayer. He has the power to pray on behalf of these people He loves so much and He knows His Father has the power to see it through.
This is how I want to pray. I can pray for myself, sometimes even beg God to do things my way (and a lot of times I do), but I hope that when the time comes that I have little time on earth I spend my prayers to pray for those I love. Jesus spent verse after verse in John 17 praying for others. He prayed a short prayer of personal anguish and need in Matthew, but the majority of His words were for others.
I have to make it a personal goal to remember this. When I pray I don't want it to be repetitive requests for myself (although sometimes I do need to pray for myself), but prayers for others. From talking to my mom about her prayer life and just observing how she prays I have come to realize that prayers are more powerful when you're praying for others. I know I personally want to have a powerful prayer life, so that I can have those intimate, personal moments with God as well as interceding on behalf of others.
Do you have someone you speak to regularly, draw encouragement and strength from, and to whom you confide in in an intimate capacity? I have three of these confidants--my cousin, Ally, my mom, and my husband. When I speak to these people I rarely invite someone else into the conversation, nor do I discuss the issue outside of our conversation.
Of course I believe Jesus prayed actively and often throughout His life and ministry on this earth, but I always imagined His praying as a sort of intimate conversation between father and son (much like my talks with my mom). So what makes this instance any different?
One of the most known prayers of Jesus to His Father, I think, would be in the garden of Gethsemane before His arrest in which he pleads "Oh, my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt" (Matthew 26) He prays that prayer 3 times while trying to take comfort in his Father's presence through prayer, as well as His disciples' support (but they keep falling asleep). This prayer is a desperate one between a Father and a Son. Jesus knows His Father holds all authority, but when I read this prayer I think of a time when I may have called my mom up, tears streaming down my face, trying to come up with the words to identify my pain. Jesus' prayer here is short and distressed, but His Father knows His heart. This is the kind of prayer I had always pictured Jesus praying, until I found this one in John.
According to the gospel of Matthew this is the last prayer Jesus prayed before His arrest. It isn't recorded in John, though. In John we get a different picture of Jesus. I tend to think the prayer of John 17 came before that of Matthew, because the disciples are with Jesus, awake. In this prayer, in public (or in the presence of the disciples), Jesus takes on a different ere, one of authority, in which he prays for Himself, His disciples, and His Church. I think what draws me to John 17 so is the passionate love Jesus shows through His prayer. Remember, this is one of Jesus' last prayers to His Father before His arrest. He could be asking right then, "let this cup pass," but instead He prays for glorification--not for Himself, but so that God can be glorified through Him; He prays for the disciples--that they may be one, made perfect, that they may have Jesus' joy, that they will be kept from evil, that they be sanctified, and that they may be with Him in glory, and that they may have the love in them that God has for them. Really, the fact that God's final words are of love for His people and His church blows me away. I shouldn't be surprised, though. God is love, and Jesus is God in the flesh. Also, it's not just any prayer--not just a conversation between a father and a son. Jesus is taking on an ere of authority in this prayer. He has the power to pray on behalf of these people He loves so much and He knows His Father has the power to see it through.
This is how I want to pray. I can pray for myself, sometimes even beg God to do things my way (and a lot of times I do), but I hope that when the time comes that I have little time on earth I spend my prayers to pray for those I love. Jesus spent verse after verse in John 17 praying for others. He prayed a short prayer of personal anguish and need in Matthew, but the majority of His words were for others.
I have to make it a personal goal to remember this. When I pray I don't want it to be repetitive requests for myself (although sometimes I do need to pray for myself), but prayers for others. From talking to my mom about her prayer life and just observing how she prays I have come to realize that prayers are more powerful when you're praying for others. I know I personally want to have a powerful prayer life, so that I can have those intimate, personal moments with God as well as interceding on behalf of others.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Hi. My Name Is Rachel...
It's true what they say about men and women. Maybe men aren't from Mars, and women aren't from Venus (although it makes for a close shave), but the two counterparts of humanity are so different they may as well be on different sides of the universe!
For instance, something Morrel says to me, or something I say to him may be the same word or phrase, but we understand it completely opposite. I'm not one to steal, so I won't. I do very much like a book called Love & Respect, though, so I will just paraphrase a great example.
He says: " I have nothing to wear!" (jerking a hanger off the closet rod). What he's really saying: "You never do any laundry!"
I say: "I have nothing to wear!" (throwing clothes into the floor from the dresser). What I really mean: "I'm so fat nothing fits!"
Bottom line is we speak a different language, women and men. Something to do with the chromosomes that make us who we are also makes us understand things in a certain way. This is an area I have had to grow in lately. I'd say in the last 2 years God has opened my eyes to my failures as a wife, and strengthened me enough to implement change. It is important to make a change when you realize you can do better.
"Hi. My name is Rachel, and I disrespect my husband." There, I said it. The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one. Notice I didn't say "I do not respect my husband". The fact is that I do respect him--very much. That doesn't change the fact that I very often disrespect him. By the words I say, the way I say them, the gestures I make, and the general things I do I can paint a shade of harmony in my marriage, or I can paint the red of anger. And when Papa ain't happy, ain't nobody happy (yea, that works both ways as well).
It is something that men feel but rarely say: I NEED RESPECT!
It's something women feel, but rarely say: I RESPECT YOU!
I decided that it was time to tell my husband that I respect him. It's funny that when I started thinking about respect and how I respect him I was perplexed, because I knew I did respect him, but I didn't rightly know for what. So I used a white board we have on our refrigerator and started writing him notes everyday or every other day--reasons why I respect him. It was something he did that day, or maybe around that time, or something big that just blew me away. It's funny, the more I thought about it, the more reasons I came up with to respect my husband. Over time I realized that there was very little reason to disrespect him, and that even the slightest disrespect was unloving.
Unloving.
Now there's a term a woman can understand. I am genetically made up to nurture and love everyone, but by showing this disrespect for my husband, I was failing to show him love. That is a big pill to swallow for a wife. You never want to realize that you aren't loving toward your husband. Because we know how it feels to be treated "unloving", and it hurts. The fact of the matter is, men need to feel respected and women need to feel loved.
Paul knew this fact almost 2000 years ago when he wrote in a letter to the Ephesians: "Nevertheless let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband" (5:33).
I pray every marriage can be strengthened by this realization, that wives' eyes will be opened to this revelation that has been available to us all for centuries in scripture that we have failed to read. Just think about how much you need to feel loved. That is how much your husband needs to feel respected.
For instance, something Morrel says to me, or something I say to him may be the same word or phrase, but we understand it completely opposite. I'm not one to steal, so I won't. I do very much like a book called Love & Respect, though, so I will just paraphrase a great example.
He says: " I have nothing to wear!" (jerking a hanger off the closet rod). What he's really saying: "You never do any laundry!"
I say: "I have nothing to wear!" (throwing clothes into the floor from the dresser). What I really mean: "I'm so fat nothing fits!"
Bottom line is we speak a different language, women and men. Something to do with the chromosomes that make us who we are also makes us understand things in a certain way. This is an area I have had to grow in lately. I'd say in the last 2 years God has opened my eyes to my failures as a wife, and strengthened me enough to implement change. It is important to make a change when you realize you can do better.
"Hi. My name is Rachel, and I disrespect my husband." There, I said it. The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one. Notice I didn't say "I do not respect my husband". The fact is that I do respect him--very much. That doesn't change the fact that I very often disrespect him. By the words I say, the way I say them, the gestures I make, and the general things I do I can paint a shade of harmony in my marriage, or I can paint the red of anger. And when Papa ain't happy, ain't nobody happy (yea, that works both ways as well).
It is something that men feel but rarely say: I NEED RESPECT!
It's something women feel, but rarely say: I RESPECT YOU!
I decided that it was time to tell my husband that I respect him. It's funny that when I started thinking about respect and how I respect him I was perplexed, because I knew I did respect him, but I didn't rightly know for what. So I used a white board we have on our refrigerator and started writing him notes everyday or every other day--reasons why I respect him. It was something he did that day, or maybe around that time, or something big that just blew me away. It's funny, the more I thought about it, the more reasons I came up with to respect my husband. Over time I realized that there was very little reason to disrespect him, and that even the slightest disrespect was unloving.
Unloving.
Now there's a term a woman can understand. I am genetically made up to nurture and love everyone, but by showing this disrespect for my husband, I was failing to show him love. That is a big pill to swallow for a wife. You never want to realize that you aren't loving toward your husband. Because we know how it feels to be treated "unloving", and it hurts. The fact of the matter is, men need to feel respected and women need to feel loved.
Paul knew this fact almost 2000 years ago when he wrote in a letter to the Ephesians: "Nevertheless let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband" (5:33).
I pray every marriage can be strengthened by this realization, that wives' eyes will be opened to this revelation that has been available to us all for centuries in scripture that we have failed to read. Just think about how much you need to feel loved. That is how much your husband needs to feel respected.
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