Party Crasher

I consider myself to be quite a good hostess. I always try to put my best foot forward and make my guests feel right at home. I don’t throw a lot of parties but when I do they are usually something special.

I only have a couple of party rules – show up on time, leave on time (just ask the guests I once politely asked to leave while I brandished a golf club. Hey, when the invite says 7-10, I don’t mean 10:30), and if you’re not on the guest list you don’t get in (just ask the famous rock band I once escorted out of my house. Hey, I didn’t know who they were.)

Parties are fun because when you put a varied mix of people together you never know what might take place. All sorts of conversations and interesting things can happen. I have never thrown a party that turned out exactly like I thought it would. And that, I think, is the great thing about them. Their unpredictability.

Take the party I threw this weekend. I had a totally different theme and plan in mind. But once the guests started showing up the party sort of took on a life of its own.

The first guest to arrive was Grief. He is a big guy and we sat down for a big old chat. I had seen him rather recently and was not expecting to see him again so soon, but I guess he had some extra room on his schedule. Then Anger showed up, followed by Doubt and her sister Unbelief. Man, things were getting crowed over by the queso dip. The guests all seemed to know each other and things started rocking along.

Anger and Doubt were having a great conversation about the state of things. About how God never kicked people when they were down in any of the Gospels. Jesus always made the people He ran into better and helped them get to where they were going. He certainly didn’t leave them as He found them. So why does He seem to have changed His MO?

Grief and Unbelief were boogieing down to some great tunes on karaoke. One of my favorites was “Broken Dreams.” Grief then did this great solo of “Apparently Prayers Don’t Matter.” This was turning out to be one of my best parties of all time.

Wouldn’t you know it, just as my Pity Party was getting hot this Party Crasher shows up. Before I can shut the door on Him, He waltzes right in and gets comfy in my big leather chair. Then He looks me right in the eye and says, “What about Joseph?”

“What about Joseph?” I shoot back. “He had a colorful coat. Besides, like You, he’s not invited.”

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher annoyingly repeats.

“Well, he had a dream or two. He told his brothers about it. They didn’t like him anyway and this made them really mad so they threw him in a well, then sold him into slavery and tore his coat and dipped it in goat’s blood and told his dad he was dead. Then while in slavery, his master’s wife lied about him and he was wrongly thrown into prison for years. While a prisoner, he helped a fellow prisoner who got out early and that guy forgot about Joseph. And Joseph continues to linger in prison for years. Looks like God forgot about him and his dreams too.” I said triumphantly.

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher-repeater repeats.

“Well, if you must know, the former prisoner finally remembers Joseph. Tells the Pharaoh about him. Pharaoh gets Joseph out of prison. Joseph interprets a dream for Pharaoh and saves Egypt from a massive famine. Pharaoh puts Joseph in charge of all the land of Egypt. Joseph is now the number two person in authority in Egypt.” I told Him.

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher asks without a hint of wryness.

“As I’m sure You know,” I said exasperatingly, “Joseph is reunited with his brothers when they come to Egypt during the famine to buy grain, which Joseph wisely had Egypt store during the prosperous years. His brothers do not recognize him at first. When he finally reveals himself they are terrified at what he might do to them as he is so powerful. Amazingly, Joseph is not angry with them. He tells them it is God that brought him to this place not them. What happened to him was so that he could be in a position to save the people of Egypt. God has used the bad for good.”

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher asks one last time.

“All his dreams came true.” I finish slowly.

And with that, Party Crasher smiles and leaves.

As I return to my party, I realize my guests Grief, Anger, Doubt and Unbelief have all left. Instead I find Peace, Joy, Hope and Faith crowded around my table enjoying some home baked cookies and a hearty laugh. No need to chase any guest away with my golf club this time.

This just might be my greatest party of all time.
 ~

The Price Is Right

I am not a numismatist but I do enjoy coins. Coins give you a little glimpse into history if you study them. A US coin has the year it was minted, a letter referencing the city in which it was minted and the profile of one of our countries historical figures.

Coins are not static either. Ours keep changing. Take the penny. It once had a “wheat” back. On its reverse side there were two wheat fronds where now there is a relief of Lincoln’s Memorial. Even the nickel has evolved over time – once having an Indian head and a buffalo. Now it has Thomas Jefferson. And recently even Jefferson got a new look on his nickel.

Because I am so crazy for coins, I pick them up wherever I find them. I realize most are not worth too much – unless I happen upon a silver dollar, which never happens – but nonetheless I always stop, stoop and scoop up the lost coin.

I was recently walking through a parking lot with a friend when I happened upon an errant penny. I stopped to reclaim it and my friend turned and wondered aloud what I was up to. I told her I had found a penny and was picking it up. She told me “Yuck! Look at it. It’s gross and disgustingly dirty. Drop it!”

“No way,” I told her. I always pick up lost pennies and such, no matter how dirty. Money is money. It spends just the same clean or dirty. Coins and money are like that – they never lose their value. A penny is worth one cent no matter if it is a shiny new 2010 penny or an old, dirty, oil stained 1974 penny reclaimed from a parking lot. And lots of times they go up in value.

Too bad I’m not a coin or other type of money that never loses my value. Because there are days when I know I am completely worthless. Truth be told I’ve been feeling a lot like that these past months and year (or two (or forty)).

You ever have those seasons? Where everything you do or touch just wilts or withers? Every time you turn around someone else is getting your promotion? Your “atta girl”? Your breakthrough? You start off feeling pretty good, pretty worthwhile but endure a long, dry season and you and I can wind up feeling pretty empty and worthless. And I don’t know a feeling much worse than worthless.

I was having just that feeling the other day, feeling down and out, when I was cleaning up a grimy penny with some soap and water and old tooth brush. (I am a nerd that way.) That’s when God hit me right where it counts – I’m just like my grimy penny.

I’m not worth less just because I’ve been beat up a bit. I may not feel my value or worth but that does not mean I’m not priceless. I’m still as valuable as the day He breathed life into me. God helped me to understand that the Creator of the universe also created me and it’s an all out impossibility for me to lose value. Ever.

He showed me my value is not based on my bank account, my job description, my address, my relationship status or any other man-made criteria. My value is solely based on who I am in Him. I am just as worthy naked and penniless and standing on a corner as I am fully decked out in Armani, with millions in the bank and sitting in a penthouse suite. It’s Who made me that matters not what I have made of myself.

God put talents and gifts into me the day He thought me into existence. He put me together in such a way that He didn’t do for anyone else. He did the same for you that He didn’t recreate in me or anyone else. We are each a “masterpiece” of God. (EPH. 2:10). By definition masterpiece means one-of-a-kind. Priceless. God’s masterpiece does not depend on man’s definition of worth.

I am valuable but like my penny I am a bit grimy. There is only one thing left for me to do – allow God to take His soap and water and old tooth brush (He probably uses a new one) and clean the gunk and grime off of me and restore me.

Like coins, I‘m not static and I have changed and evolved over time. If you study me, especially the lines in my forty-mumble face, you can learn a bit of my history. And luckily, so too like coins, you and I have worth that far exceeds our face-value.

God minted each of us that way.

Soul Sighting

As the year turns to all things new and unknown it is time that I do as well. I started this site as a place to express and expound on my journey through life via the written word. I love the art of writing and from time to time God allows me to use language to describe what truly is the indescribable - His beauty and everlasting love. I plan to continue writing and exploring even more in the New Year.

However, the written word is at times wholly inadequate. It is true what "they" say - a picture is worth a thousand words. I am constantly taking pictures of God's majestic kingdom here on earth. And I find Him everywhere. So, I have started a second site which I am dedicating to those times when words just won't do. When sightings of God or of the Spirit or Love simply speak for themselves and bring God's own words to life.

It’s called Soul Sighting. Because when I see these things God simply pierces my soul and sets my heart on fire with His love.

It is my hope that you will find your soul set on fire from time to time too.
~

Loving the Low Life

I’m not allowed to dance. Not in public, anyway.

My friends and family discovered, long before I did, that I was not blessed with the grace or ability to dance. It seems that while my knees function just fine during walking and bending, my knees completely fail me when I dance. I sort of look like a stiff robot. This makes onlookers quite uncomfortable (or so I have been told.) So, I usually just sit on the side and sway in my seat and tap my toes.

There is one dance that I have not given up on, however. It may be the competitor in me but I cannot say no to the Limbo. You know, that Hawaiian concoction using a rapid drumbeat and a bamboo pole. Whenever someone starts one up I just have to see “how low can I go?”

As you might predict, given my ungraceful knee issues, I have never “gone very low” in a limbo dance. (One time I fell out of the dance so early I snuffed out a nearby tiki-torch for revenge. For which I was soon escorted from the event. But that’s another story.)

The limbo is interesting to me. Most competitions, be they dance or athletic, measure and reward the winner for lasting the longest, running the farthest, jumping the highest or achieving the most. It's one of the few challenges with a prize for going the lowest. And I think that is what appeals to me. The one who goes the lowest is rewarded for his or her efforts.

Jesus would have been great at the limbo. Here He was, the Son of God hanging out in Heaven on high but that was not the life for Him. Heaven, it seems, was too high a place for God’s Son to teach the world. So, the King left His home and got low.

Jesus was not sent to earth with all the power and prestige that rightfully belonged to Him. No, He was striped bare of all His position. He could have come in any form. As a full adult if He so chose. But instead He entered our world an infant with all the helplessness that brings.  He chose to go low in order to woo us.

Jesus’s birth was anything but what I would expect when a King is being born. There was no celebrating with extended family. We are not told of any of the usual birth celebration rituals of the day taking place for Jesus as they did for his cousin John born six months prior.

Mary and Joseph were not with family when they brought their son and the Son of God into the world. Joseph was a mere carpenter. They were teenagers. They were alone. In a stable. With hay for their son’s first bed.  Having to feed and change the Son of God.  In fact, the first ones to visit and celebrate Jesus were lowly shepherds. Nothing high and mighty there.

God is a big God and I expect Him to act in big and mighty ways. But when it came to arguably one of the most important events in the history of the world 1, God went low. And Jesus spent His entire life on earth “going low.” He didn’t call attention to Himself. His message was all about loving and helping other people, not yourself.

Loving through living the low life.

And people flocked to Him. He was approachable. He was humble. His heart was open to everyone – peasants and princes – alike. If God had sent Jesus to us in His true form and rightful position I don’t think it would have worked. Some would have been intimidated by His majesty; some would have been put off by a princely arrogance. Others would have ignored Him completely. But because of the way He arrived and the way He lived and the way He died (like a common criminal) He changed hearts, minds and lives. For all eternity.

Low was the only way to go.

Therein lies the challenge. How low can I go? It’s tough I admit. I don’t feel like livin’ “la vida low” sometimes. Because some days I get in the way of me. But when I do go low I love it. I find such peace in the low life. When I am able take my focus off myself and put it on others my spirit soars. That’s when I feel closest to My Savior – loving and living.

The dance is hard and I bump my head a lot on that bamboo pole because I’m not going low enough. But the good news is is that each day I get another chance at the dance and another chance to see how low I can go.

And the best part is no graceful knees required for this limbo dance.
_________________

1 - Big statement but every thing in history is divided into two time periods – before Christ’s birth and after it.

~

My Fortress

My fortress is mighty
Strong
And tall

The walls hold back the winds
The rains
And the storms

A mighty fortress
Whose protection is solid
Fierce and true

The rain seems relentless
The storm appears endless
The night feels bottomless

I do not fault the storms for coming
I do not fault the waves for raging
I do not fault the darkness for falling

A wall becomes mightier when fortified by rain
A fortress strengthened when buffeted by wind
A foundation solidified when christened by waves

My fortress is mighty
Strong
And tall
~

Inspired Wisdom

"Can't doesn't live here."  ~ Kelly Sumners

~

Wing Man

Let’s get one thing straight right here at the onset, I have a bit of an independent streak running through me. I realize we’ve talked about how we are created to live in community and I agree with that. However, at times I find that I know what’s best better than the community.

I know you do too. Don’t even sit there and try to deny it. It’s the reason we constantly find our selves in troubling situations, we, the know-it-alls of the world.

Take Maverick, for instance. His know-it-all, can-do-it-all attitude got him far but it could not get him all the way to his goal. In the movie Top Gun, Tom Cruise played a Navy pilot nick-named Maverick training to be a top jet-fighter pilot. He got his nick-name because of his independent attitude.

In a key scene, Maverick and his navigator, Goose, were in a simulated dog-fight with another trainee jet against two faux enemies. The pilots were trained to fly together for protection. Maverick was the wingman for the other pilot, protecting him. However, Maverick believed that the pilot had his confrontation with his enemy well in hand so Maverick left to go after the other enemy jet.

Of course, things went terribly wrong. The first pilot was “shot down” by his enemy but things went far worse for Maverick and Goose. They flew through the exhaust of another jet, stalled and had to eject. Goose was killed. Maverick could not fly for weeks.

Like jet fighter pilots, I have a wingman as I make my way through life. He is with me everyday protecting my backside. He is there giving me guidance. He is there showing me the way. He is there helping me through. And He is there showering me with love.

But like Maverick, there are many days when I ditch my wingman and fly off on my own. I feel strong and don’t need His protection. I am smart and don’t need His guidance. I am experienced I don’t need HIm showing me the way. I am capable I don’t need help. I am happy I don’t need love.

Greatfully, I have stumbled and fallen like Maverick and like him I am learning the error of my ways. At the end of the movie, Maverick has become a real jet-fighter pilot and finds himself in a real dog-fight with real enemies. Several times he gets nervous and cannot shoot. But then his strength comes as he asks his friend Goose to “talk” to him. As one enemy flies away Maverick's new navigator implores him to chase after it. Maverick says “No.” And he stays flying along with the other pilot.

The enemy turns around and has them in its sights. Again his navigator shouts to pull out and Maverick says “No, I’m not leaving my wingman.”

Maverick has learned the value of keeping the faith in what he has been taught and that it will keep them safe. The first enemy gets shot down then Maverick pulls off his signature breaking maneuver and shoots down his trailing enemy. Staying with his wingman, Maverick ensured all enemies were defeated and both jets made it home safely.

It’s no easy task, staying with my Wing Man. Faith asks a lot. My independent streak is strong. The harder things are and the darker the night the stronger the pull is to strike out on my own. To say, “God, must have forgotten about me. He obviously doesn’t care about me anymore. So, it’s all up to me now.” That is exactly when I must fight the hardest to stay with Him. I must do what Maverick did and ask my Wing Man to talk to me and give me strength to hold tight. You see, even when I’m grounded and cannot fly, my Man’s got the wings to help me soar.

Come hell or high water, I’m not leaving my Wing Man.

~

To Catch A Dream Thief

Once upon a time I had a dream. It was a big dream. Bigger than any other I had. But I dreamed it anyway. I dreamed I was elected student-body President of my high school.

You might think that as I was Vice President the year before that my dream was not such a big dream. That my dream was easily within my grasp. I’d say “Ha!, you’re wrong.” I was running against our Valedictorian, the smartest girl not just in my class but in the whole school. I was also running against several faculty members and teachers, as I soon learned. Fulfilling this dream would be a mighty task.

Even before I announced my candidacy people tried to thwart me and my dream. I was told in no uncertain terms by the Head of the Upper School, Sister C., that I was to strongly consider my run for the presidency. And that I really should not run. That, among other things, she and other faculty members didn’t find me committed enough for the position.

I was flabbergasted. Sister C and I always got along really well. I responded in no uncertain terms that I was, indeed, committed beyond expression. I thanked her for her concern and set about my task of campaigning.

That’s when I learned that forces that one day like you can really not like you really quickly. I put up campaign posters – Sister C. tore them down for alleged misspellings (she was wrong). I put up big posters – Sister C. instituted a new rule as to the size poster that could be put up. I cut my large poster in half, and put them up really close together – Sister C. instituted another new rule as to the number of posters, one.

Sister C. was not the only one who wanted my dream to fail. Indeed, there were other teachers and faculty who didn’t take to the idea of my presidency. I even learned Sister B., the Headmistress, was one of them. But I did have teachers and faculty on my side. Seemed I had created quite a stir with my little campaign. And the people who noticed didn’t think it was all bad.

Election Day finally came. Valedictorian and I gave our speeches to the Upper School. Votes were tallied. Candidates’ were called into Sister B’s office for the results. I won in a landslide.

Dreams are funny things. We have to hold on tight to them. Really tight. There are evil forces in the world that will try and take them from us if we are not vigilant.

Dream stealers are sent in all shapes and sizes. Some dream stealing soldiers are obvious, like mine was – a person who is visibly trying to keep us from our goal. But other soldiers are more subtle – busyness, that makes us move our dream to the back burner; lack of confidence, that tells us we don’t have any business striving for that goal; lack of contacts or resources, that tells us we will never get there from here; or repeated failure, that tells us we’ve tried and tried but this dream belongs to someone else. And so many more.

Lies. Each one of these dream thiefs is a lie sent by the evil one to ensure we do not reach our goal. Why? Because he knows that if we reach it what joy we will have and what glory God, the dream giver, will have.  The only true way to thwart the thwarter of dreams is to trust in God to get us there. When there seems like no way, there is a way. God is the Way. Even when we can no longer see the dream God can and does. We must do our part and remain in faith. God put the dream in us and God finishes what He starts.

What business did I have beating the smartest girl in school? On paper I should have lost big time. The only way I win that election is with God’s help. And I think satan knew it and that’s why he tried every trick in the book to stop it. Now, I’m not saying my opponent didn’t have God on her side, but perhaps God had a bigger dream planned for her. Something that would bring her even more joy and Him even greater glory.

The dream thief is sneaky and we must remain ever alert and focused to catch him. When we can no longer see the dreams, goals and desires we have set out for our lives we must keep our eyes on God.

He is the one, true way to get there from here.

And that is no dream.

~

Q & A

Hell? No!

Sticks and Swords

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” How many times did I sing that little rhyme when I was a child? Whenever someone would say something that hurt my feelings I would turn to that familiar refrain and say it to them and then say it over and over to myself.

Trouble was it never did make me feel better. Whatever hurtful thing was said to me had a tendency to stick with me. I would find myself mulling over it for hours or even days. All the while trying not to let anyone know that my feelings had been hurt.

I don’t know who came up with that ditty but someone needs to let the author know words can indeed wound, sometimes even more than a stick. The nice thing is, is that words can also build up and repair.

Words matter.

We have said and written many words in an attempt to express the thoughts, feelings and desires we hold inside. Every song on the radio is a singer’s words put to melody in an effort to express an idea or create a feeling within the listener.

Throughout history lovers have devoted reams of paper and gallons of ink to the inexpressible idea of love’s rapture and heartbreak’s devastation.  Words can alter the course of history. 

The Declaration of Independence, The Constitution of the United States, The Bill of Rights – words that form the foundation of our country.

Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address and Emancipation Proclamation – words of freedom.

Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf – words of hate.

Martin Luther King, Jr.’s I have a Dream speech – words that inspire and encourage.

Words have power.

Words can give, “You’re hired.” And words can take away, “You’re fired.” Words can soothe, “How can I help?” And words can heal, “I’m sorry.”

In Genesis, we learn that God created the heavens and the earth and God separated the light from the darkness. How did He do this? Did He use modeling clay then wave His hand over it? No. Did He throw a lightening bolt across the cosmos? No.

“And God said…” (Gen. 1:3) That’s all it took. Words. No further action required. Merely by uttering words God called all things into being.

God created us in His image which means our words matter. Our words have power. We can use our words to hurt, kill and destroy or we can use our words to help, love and lift up.

There is another saying, “the pen is mightier than the sword.” The fellow who penned this phrase was a man of wise words.

So the next time someone does or says something to hurt you, instead of picking up a verbal stick or sword, try using 3 of the most powerful words ever spoken, “I forgive you.” I bet it will make you both feel better and it just might alter the course of your history.

It worked for Jesus.

~