Tag: faith

Control the Brightness?

I have come to a place that much of what I have learned is wrong.  It is humbling to think that I knew so much, and aggressively propagated what I knew.  I am embarrassed by so much.

A room can be lighted in different ways.  A contractor determines what kind of illumination will be required, and the electrician will wire in the necessary outlets and switches.  One can eat dinner by candlelight, but its kind of challenging to read by.  I find personally, that I vastly prefer a brighter room than the murkiness of a room poorly lit.

For years I believed that our Christian life was a run-of-the mill on/off switch.  If it was off, there was a good chance it meant no light.  You turn it on, and “presto” the room was lit.  Spiritually, it worked the same.  You meet people everyday who live in darkness, they will not flip the switch.

Lately, I have come to see that the spiritual life is more like a dimmer switch. Using a dimmer means that the householder can adjust the light for the moment.  Dinner with the wife, and the switch dims the light to the desired level.  To tie “flies” or to do emergency surgery on the dog requires a lot of light (probably the max).

Some Christians keep their rooms bright, others not so much.  When I speak with someone, it seems I unconsciously am determining  just how much light they have.  I listen for verbal cues, underlying attitudes, and the joy and peace that is evident.  Do they love Jesus first and foremost, or is there a short-circuit of some kind?

Jesus said that we were to be a “city on a hill”.  Bright and obvious to everyone.  Some would lead us to believe that we are to camouflage ourselves to blend in.  And while a case can be made for that approach, we are simply not-of-this world.  We have been made for another.

_______________________

“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. 15Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.”  Matthew 5:14-15, NIV

“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light.”  Ephesians 5:8, NIV

“You are all sons of the light and sons of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness.”  1 Thessalonians 5:5, NIV

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My Deliverer

My Deliverer

“So Jehoahaz pleaded with the Lord, and the Lord listened to him, for He saw the oppression of Israel, because the king of Syria oppressed them.”  2 Kings 13:4

“Then the Lord gave Israel a deliverer, so that they escaped from under the hand of the Syrians; and the children of Israel dwelt in their tents as before.”  2 Kings 13:5

I see this:
Our pleading + God’s listening = Our Deliverance

Lord, I’m pleading with You for deliverance of those who are being oppressed today.  And here’s a simple poem . . .

Pleading

The oppression is so great
they can but hardly pray

and so I’m pleading with You
to please take it away

lift the heaviness
that keeps pushing them down

let them see their Deliverer
has come to save them now.

Amen.

Deb’s Blog of Simple Poems and Faith

http://iftodaywehear.wordpress.com/2012/03/12/my-deliverer/

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Looking at the Flip Side of Love

 

The other day Pastor Bryan posted an article titled “Making Some Sense of a Deep and Kind Love: 1 Corinthians 13.” It reminded me of a poem I recently wrote on my own blog, Linda Kruschke’s Blog. So I decided to offer it up here for your consideration.

This poem was born as I was pondering 1 Corinthians 13, and it occurred to me that I might gain a better understanding of what love really is if I looked at it from the opposite side. Taking each description of love in this wonderful passage of scripture, I turned it on its head and saw what hate is. Afterall, hate is the opposite of love.

So here is my poem illustrating what the opposite of 1 Corinthians 13 looks like. (I don’t want to spoil anything, but the final line is my favorite.)

Hate Is . . .

Hate is impatient,
toe tapping, eye-rolling,
in a hurry for instant gratification

Hate is mean,
treating others unkindly,
bullying, and insulting

Hate is envious,
not happy for others’ prosperity,
wanting what others have,
and for them not to have it

Hate is boastful,
puffed up, pointing to self-accomplishments,
not recognizing contributions of others

Hate is not humble,
but is arrogant, filled with hubris
proudly thinking oneself better than all,
pretentious and vain, always vain

Hate is rude,
abusive and insulting, vulgar,
disrespectful, and never caring for others

Hate is self-seeking,
it’s-all-about-me attitude,
selfish and egotistical, self-important

Hate is easily angered,
irritated by the slightest mistake,
hot-headed, unwilling to forgive

Hate keeps a record of wrongs,
every little sin catalogued and indexed,
ready as part of its arsenal of hostility

Hate delights in evil,
revels in rebelling against authority,
is pleased to go its own way

Hate despises truth,
closes its ears to teaching,
refuses instruction and correction

Hate attacks,
harms loved ones and strangers alike,
injures all in its way without care

Hate distrusts,
lacks faith in God or anything,
doubts there is anything good

Hate despairs,
has no hope for a future,
lives in misery and sorrow

Hate gives up,
at the smallest obstacle it gives in,
is defeated by the tiniest tribulation

Hate never wins

Always remember that last line. Hate never wins. Satan never wins. And love never fails, ever! God’s love prevail for all of us on the cross.

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Broken Prayers From the Edge

I lock the doors.  Close the curtains.  And let God have it.

I clinch my fists in a maddening rage as my hands tremble violently.  Within moments, my fingers ache from the intense, white-knuckle tightness.  And my forearms cramp up.  The blood rushes to my head.  And my eyes burn and burn and burn from the tears.

I speak, then shout — and scream.

My voice becomes raspy as I rant.  And soon, my throat burns.  My heart is aflame with grief and rage, so much so that my ears can no longer understand the words coming out of my mouth.  Before it’s over, I will blow my nose several times and wipe my eyes often and much.

I am broken — and I am praying.

I start with the loss of my friend, JD, a man taken far, far too soon.  A man who left behind a wife and two children.  I tell God that I do not think it is fair for his children to grow up without a father.  And then, I ask God why He didn’t take me instead, that I want to be with my children, that I don’t have any here for me.

“All I do is suffer and I am sick to death of it!!!”

And then, I rant about all the believers — never the broken — who paint a picture of life with Christ as a portrait of perfection.  Their grandiose testimonies have made me feel like God has something against me, like grace is a joke for people like me because my life has been so hard.  My brokenness is not the result of one trial, nor one tragedy — but a lifetime of unbearable loss.

“And it just keeps happening!!!”

I rattle off the names of those I’ve lost in just the past five years:  Jerry, Britany, Virginia, Rob, Terry, Nancy, Leroy, Art, Kim, Greg, Melody — and now JD.  I tell God that I am the anti-Midas.  Everything King Midas touched turned to gold, but I feel like everything I touch turns to dirt.  I am cursed.  “God has raised His fist against me.”

“How am I supposed to go on?  How?”

And then, in that moment, all of my rage and all of my grief and all that I am burns and burns and burns for The Almighty.  I am a man of faith — and, even in the midst of this monstrous mess my life has become, I know that He could end every ounce of this despair with a simple whisper.  A sign.  A something.  Anything.

“If You would just speak, this madness would end!”

With the last tissue, I tell God that I am convinced He wants me to suffer — alone, in this maddening agony.  I tell Him that I have given up on Him, that I cannot take any of this any more.  That I am broken.  And my heart is dead.  My pain is too great, my anguish too deep.  And that I will never serve God again for as long as I live.

“I can’t do it!  I can’t do it!  I just can’t do it!”

Three days later, God spoke to me through a dream.

“In my dream, I had a vision…”

To learn more, read “Safe in the Mouth of Danger.”

 

Love,

The NorEaster

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