Realizing I needed a Savior at the tender age of 7, I began my now lifelong journey of faith. 35 years later, my faith doesn't look like I ever thought it would or could. Other people's faith's don't look like I thought. Our personal faith's come in all different sizes, shapes & colors. Some people get to live in (as a friend called it) the pretty little thatched roof bungalow of faith...like a Thomas Kincaid painting...inviting, full of light, and cozy. Deep doubts over the Truth are almost non-existant. Their faith is still very real and deep and beautiful, but it's not hard for them to believe. Other people's faith is like an endless desert or wilderness...stark but still full of life; also full of depth and beauty yet often a struggle for survival. Other people live somewhere in between. I've spent a lot of my life thinking that eventually everyone who professed Christ should end up in the bungalow. I don't believe that anymore.
I don't know about you, but I often doubt my faith. I doubt the validity of the claims of Christ, I doubt that the Bible is really the Word of God. I doubt there's a God. I doubt just about everything related to this "faith" we call Christianity. Why do I doubt? Partly because it's who I am to question. Partly because I confuse religion for faith. And partly because the claims of Christianity seem ludicris...I mean One God becoming man to save us?? A being beyond us, controlling the universe? C'mon.
But amid all the doubts, I still believe. Why do I still believe? Is it habit? Superstition? Fear? Lack of reflection? Lack of reason? Laziness? Because Christianity "works"? Because I see evidence of God in nature, humanity, the universe, even myself?
The simple, truthful answer is, I don't have a choice but to believe.
There have been times in my life when I wanted to stop believing; wanted to embrace secular humanism, existentialism or rationalism.
Those times have indeed led me to searching the Bible and asking other's what and why they believe.
But ultimately, it's not reading the Bible more, or praying more, or seeing God in people around me, or remembering His faithfulness that keeps me believing.
It's this abstract, absolutely uncontainable, indescribable, very real Thing that goes beyond my reason and beyond my feeling and beyond the definable that keeps holding on to me.
So even when I try to let go, I can't. It's got me. I cannot not believe.
Even with my doubts and inability to live in the tidy little bungalow, I still believe.
I know that by merely expressing my thoughts, doubts and questions, many of you may doubt me and be very uncomfortable with this entry. But my hope is, that others who aren't sure will continue searching and may be taken captive by this utterly unbelievable God.
Creed by Rich Mullins track #13 on player
I believe in God the Father almighty Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son, our Lord
He was conceived by the Holy Spirit
Born of the virgin Mary
Suffered under Pontius Pilate
He was crucified and dead and buried
And I believe what I believe
It's what makes me what I am
I did not make it, no it is making me
It is the very truth of God and not
The invention of any man
I believe that He who suffered
Was crucified, buried, and dead
He descended into hell and
On the third day, rose again
He ascended into Heaven where
He sits at God's mighty right hand
I believe that He's returning to
Judge the quick and the dead
Of the sons of men
I believe it, I believe it I believe it I believe it, I believe it
I believe in God the Father almighty
Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son,
Our Lord I believe in the Holy Spirit
One Holy Church, the communion of Saints
The forgiveness of sin
I believe in the resurrection
I believe in a life that never ends
And I believe what I believe
It's what makes me what I am
I did not make it, no it is making me
It is the very truth of God and not
The invention of any man
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Fragile Growth
"And they will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor." ~Isaiah the Prophet, Isaiah 61:3b
Okay, so it's not an oak, it's a maple. Brad noticed it growing up between the garage and the compost box (in a 3 inch wide space) a few years ago. Standing true and straight, protected (and probably fed) by the compost box, the tree grew to about 6 feet tall before Brad transplanted it. As he dug it up last fall, he saw that the base and the roots were twisted because of the garage's foundation. He gently carved away at the base, trying not to damage the roots. After planting it, we waited all winter wondering if the fragile tree would make it. This spring...still standing tall...still very fragile...the maple has leaves! The volunteer sapling with the damaged root system survived.
"Zee grrrapes, zay haf to sufair to prodoos zee finest vine in zee vurld." ~some, hard to understand French woman on a PBS travel show
The host of the travel show was in Burgundy, France talking with a wine maker. She, the vintner, was showing him the centuries old vineyards and explaining why Burgundy wine is so wonderful and rare. The soil is awful and the environmental conditions less than ideal for most plants. She went on to say that the grapes have to suffer...that when the vines have to work to grow in the harsh environment they pick up unique, special flavors not found anywhere else in the world. The suffering grapes produce one of kind wine.
"With a very dry and strong southerly wind blowing, we could use some moisture..."
~Dave Winslow, Weather guy on KTIV
Living on the Great Plains, we're used to, shall we say, strong air currents. But even by Iowa's standards, we've experienced brutal, sustained winds the last 2 1/2 days and nights. I spent all day Saturday planting flowers and tomatoes and dividing perennials...would the fragile plants survive the onslaught...I wondered. I tried to keep them watered; I moved the ones I could to more protected areas, but some just had to endure the harsh, dry winds. I was sure my tomato plants would snap. Sleeping with the windows open, I woke up about 3 a.m. to quiet; the winds finally died down. First thing this morning, I stepped out to check on my plants. I think they've made it. The tomatoes didn't snap and the others were already straighting back up. The wind swept little plants endured.
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." ~Jesus, John 16:33
I don't know what your story is, but we've all experienced tight spots that damage our root system, less than ideal growing conditions, and dry hot winds that threaten to snap us off at the base. We all have times in our lives of fragility. Times when standing tall seems impossible, fruit non-existent and growth unattainable.
"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us...." ~Paul, Romans 5:2b-5a
I know sometimes it feels like no amount of character building seems worth the pain. But whatever your struggle today, I do believe (for myself and for you) that He is shaping you into an oak...cultivating one of a kind grapes in your heart...and giving you a strong foundation to endure the winds to come...not so you'll be happy or so you won't have to suffer anymore, but for His glory and renown.
Okay, so it's not an oak, it's a maple. Brad noticed it growing up between the garage and the compost box (in a 3 inch wide space) a few years ago. Standing true and straight, protected (and probably fed) by the compost box, the tree grew to about 6 feet tall before Brad transplanted it. As he dug it up last fall, he saw that the base and the roots were twisted because of the garage's foundation. He gently carved away at the base, trying not to damage the roots. After planting it, we waited all winter wondering if the fragile tree would make it. This spring...still standing tall...still very fragile...the maple has leaves! The volunteer sapling with the damaged root system survived.
"Zee grrrapes, zay haf to sufair to prodoos zee finest vine in zee vurld." ~some, hard to understand French woman on a PBS travel show
The host of the travel show was in Burgundy, France talking with a wine maker. She, the vintner, was showing him the centuries old vineyards and explaining why Burgundy wine is so wonderful and rare. The soil is awful and the environmental conditions less than ideal for most plants. She went on to say that the grapes have to suffer...that when the vines have to work to grow in the harsh environment they pick up unique, special flavors not found anywhere else in the world. The suffering grapes produce one of kind wine.
"With a very dry and strong southerly wind blowing, we could use some moisture..."
~Dave Winslow, Weather guy on KTIV
Living on the Great Plains, we're used to, shall we say, strong air currents. But even by Iowa's standards, we've experienced brutal, sustained winds the last 2 1/2 days and nights. I spent all day Saturday planting flowers and tomatoes and dividing perennials...would the fragile plants survive the onslaught...I wondered. I tried to keep them watered; I moved the ones I could to more protected areas, but some just had to endure the harsh, dry winds. I was sure my tomato plants would snap. Sleeping with the windows open, I woke up about 3 a.m. to quiet; the winds finally died down. First thing this morning, I stepped out to check on my plants. I think they've made it. The tomatoes didn't snap and the others were already straighting back up. The wind swept little plants endured.
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." ~Jesus, John 16:33
I don't know what your story is, but we've all experienced tight spots that damage our root system, less than ideal growing conditions, and dry hot winds that threaten to snap us off at the base. We all have times in our lives of fragility. Times when standing tall seems impossible, fruit non-existent and growth unattainable.
"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us...." ~Paul, Romans 5:2b-5a
I know sometimes it feels like no amount of character building seems worth the pain. But whatever your struggle today, I do believe (for myself and for you) that He is shaping you into an oak...cultivating one of a kind grapes in your heart...and giving you a strong foundation to endure the winds to come...not so you'll be happy or so you won't have to suffer anymore, but for His glory and renown.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Words aptly written...
"Sticks and stones may brake my bones but words will never hurt me."
Whoever came up with this little childhood gem should be racked. It's one of the biggest lies that I've heard.
Words do hurt. They can do unrepairable damage.
I remember stinging words from every stage in my life. Like whispers in the quiet night, hurtful, pain filled words come back and echo in my ears when I'm doubting myself, or doubting God.
Why do words hurt so much? And why are they so easily recalled? I feel like some of the painful words spoken to me left an indelible print on who I am as a person. Having a kid make fun of my teeth or my ears, left me always self conscious of those traits. Having boys in junior high rate me compared to other girls left scars on my heart that just don't go away. As an adult, I know they were speaking out of their own insecurities and their own pain and that there was little truth in what they said. But even as adults, we suffer the pain of cutting remarks...words that degrade us or bring into question our worth. The legacy left by those hurtful words is a vast, deep one.
Thankfully, I've also been on the receiving end of beautiful, encouraging, Truth filled words. Growing up, my mom rarely spoke harshly, raised her voice or made any negative comments to us. She just didn't. Both my parents, in general, live Proverbs 25:11 "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver." They walk through life handing out golden apples left and right.
So, Jennifer, at GDWJ (http://gettingdownwithjesus.blogspot.com/) recently posted several blogs giving her own reasons for blogging. Of course, that got me thinking about why I blog.
Is it simply exhibitionist tendencies? Is it the desire to be known...really known on a heart level? Is it because I love to write? I didn't come up with any one answer, but I guess I blog because I know the impact words have had on my own life. I know that words can do more damage than sticks and stones...but words can also bring healing, encouragement, insight, wisdom, peace, grace, joy...words can leave a vast, deep, legacy of love.
That's partly what I hope my blog does. I know I'm honest to a fault at times and it probably either freaks some people out or gives them the impression that I'm always one step away from some sort of "Peaceful Pines" institution. But, I blog, and try to be honest doing it, because I'm compelled to share (hopefully) life giving words.
Whoever came up with this little childhood gem should be racked. It's one of the biggest lies that I've heard.
Words do hurt. They can do unrepairable damage.
I remember stinging words from every stage in my life. Like whispers in the quiet night, hurtful, pain filled words come back and echo in my ears when I'm doubting myself, or doubting God.
Why do words hurt so much? And why are they so easily recalled? I feel like some of the painful words spoken to me left an indelible print on who I am as a person. Having a kid make fun of my teeth or my ears, left me always self conscious of those traits. Having boys in junior high rate me compared to other girls left scars on my heart that just don't go away. As an adult, I know they were speaking out of their own insecurities and their own pain and that there was little truth in what they said. But even as adults, we suffer the pain of cutting remarks...words that degrade us or bring into question our worth. The legacy left by those hurtful words is a vast, deep one.
Thankfully, I've also been on the receiving end of beautiful, encouraging, Truth filled words. Growing up, my mom rarely spoke harshly, raised her voice or made any negative comments to us. She just didn't. Both my parents, in general, live Proverbs 25:11 "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver." They walk through life handing out golden apples left and right.
So, Jennifer, at GDWJ (http://gettingdownwithjesus.blogspot.com/) recently posted several blogs giving her own reasons for blogging. Of course, that got me thinking about why I blog.
Is it simply exhibitionist tendencies? Is it the desire to be known...really known on a heart level? Is it because I love to write? I didn't come up with any one answer, but I guess I blog because I know the impact words have had on my own life. I know that words can do more damage than sticks and stones...but words can also bring healing, encouragement, insight, wisdom, peace, grace, joy...words can leave a vast, deep, legacy of love.
That's partly what I hope my blog does. I know I'm honest to a fault at times and it probably either freaks some people out or gives them the impression that I'm always one step away from some sort of "Peaceful Pines" institution. But, I blog, and try to be honest doing it, because I'm compelled to share (hopefully) life giving words.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Rough hewn
It was a rough few hours last night at the Horstman household. After sitting in the rain and wind without an umbrella for over an hour, watching my daughter play soccer, I gently informed her that we couldn't stay for the boys game, but had to head back home (a half hour drive) right away.
I prepared myself. I knew what was coming.
No tears.
No rolling eyes.
No yelling, angry protests.
Just a clenched jaw and a stony silence. My 15 year old was upset and angry.
I tried not to let it change my mood.
Good Game! You played well!...thanks
Do you want a steamer before we leave to warm you up?...sure
As we drove on in silence, I started to question my decision. Maybe we should've stayed...it wasn't that big of a deal...what's another two hours...
Then I heard the voice of Reason reassuring me I'd done the right thing. We needed to be home. The rest of the family needed us home.
I thought of all I'd done the last few days, specifically for her:
drove 15 miles out of my way to pick her up and take her to another town 10 miles the other direction so she could eat a special supper with friends...
waited in that other town while she was with those friends then drove her back home...
got up early to make her favorite muffins for breakfast...
went to the grocery store at 7 a.m. to get drinks she told me she needed for the soccer team...
dropped everything and drove like a maniac to her game after she called me panicking because she didn't have her home game socks...
But, I realized, none of it mattered at that moment. All that mattered to her, right then, was that we didn't stay for the boys game. No amount of gifts, running around, schedule changing, or words of encouragement mattered. Thankfully, Reason kept me from saying any of this. I just drove on, pondering.
I do this to God all the time. ALL THE TIME.
My life is like the best Christmas morning ever! I'm like a kid surrounded with gifts that I asked for and dozens that I didn't dare ask for because they're beyond my wildest expectations. But instead of revelling in the moment, I sit in the middle of my presents, disappointed by the one that is missing from under the tree. I clench me teeth and sit in stony silence wondering Why didn't He give me that? I've asked for years now...faithfully...expectantly...in hope...it's a good thing...why won't He give me that?
As I sat in the van, with one of my greatest "gifts" sitting next to me, I unclenched my jaw and broke the silence with Him. I began to thank God for all He's given me: for all the times I've called on Him in a panic and He's rescued me...for all the trivial things I thought I needed that's He's patiently provided...for all the essentials He gives me every day that I all too often take for granted.
The rest of the night was fine. She got over it (which I knew she would), I kept my cool and didn't make it worse (another gift), and I went to bed thanking Him.
track #11 on the player
I prepared myself. I knew what was coming.
No tears.
No rolling eyes.
No yelling, angry protests.
Just a clenched jaw and a stony silence. My 15 year old was upset and angry.
I tried not to let it change my mood.
Good Game! You played well!...thanks
Do you want a steamer before we leave to warm you up?...sure
As we drove on in silence, I started to question my decision. Maybe we should've stayed...it wasn't that big of a deal...what's another two hours...
Then I heard the voice of Reason reassuring me I'd done the right thing. We needed to be home. The rest of the family needed us home.
I thought of all I'd done the last few days, specifically for her:
drove 15 miles out of my way to pick her up and take her to another town 10 miles the other direction so she could eat a special supper with friends...
waited in that other town while she was with those friends then drove her back home...
got up early to make her favorite muffins for breakfast...
went to the grocery store at 7 a.m. to get drinks she told me she needed for the soccer team...
dropped everything and drove like a maniac to her game after she called me panicking because she didn't have her home game socks...
But, I realized, none of it mattered at that moment. All that mattered to her, right then, was that we didn't stay for the boys game. No amount of gifts, running around, schedule changing, or words of encouragement mattered. Thankfully, Reason kept me from saying any of this. I just drove on, pondering.
I do this to God all the time. ALL THE TIME.
My life is like the best Christmas morning ever! I'm like a kid surrounded with gifts that I asked for and dozens that I didn't dare ask for because they're beyond my wildest expectations. But instead of revelling in the moment, I sit in the middle of my presents, disappointed by the one that is missing from under the tree. I clench me teeth and sit in stony silence wondering Why didn't He give me that? I've asked for years now...faithfully...expectantly...in hope...it's a good thing...why won't He give me that?
As I sat in the van, with one of my greatest "gifts" sitting next to me, I unclenched my jaw and broke the silence with Him. I began to thank God for all He's given me: for all the times I've called on Him in a panic and He's rescued me...for all the trivial things I thought I needed that's He's patiently provided...for all the essentials He gives me every day that I all too often take for granted.
The rest of the night was fine. She got over it (which I knew she would), I kept my cool and didn't make it worse (another gift), and I went to bed thanking Him.
track #11 on the player
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mom
Hi Mom.
Once again, my week was so crazy (and I'm not that organized) that I didn't get a card or gift off to you...bad daughter, I know. It's one of the nasty things about living far away, I can't do things last minute!
So, I'm sorry my sentiments have to come via a computer screen.
I love you, Mom.
I know I don't always show it and can be reserved and reticent...but I do love you.
I love your ever present smile.
I love your quick laugh.
I love your true heart.
I love your steadfast faith.
I love the grace you extend to everyone.
I love the way you unabashedly love Dad, your daughters & sons in laws & all your grand kids.
I love your constant awe and wonder.
But most of all, I love your love for God...
I love you, Mom.
May your heart be blessed and encouraged today.
Love, Patty
Once again, my week was so crazy (and I'm not that organized) that I didn't get a card or gift off to you...bad daughter, I know. It's one of the nasty things about living far away, I can't do things last minute!
So, I'm sorry my sentiments have to come via a computer screen.
I love you, Mom.
I know I don't always show it and can be reserved and reticent...but I do love you.
I love your ever present smile.
I love your quick laugh.
I love your true heart.
I love your steadfast faith.
I love the grace you extend to everyone.
I love the way you unabashedly love Dad, your daughters & sons in laws & all your grand kids.
I love your constant awe and wonder.
But most of all, I love your love for God...
I love you, Mom.
May your heart be blessed and encouraged today.
Love, Patty
Monday, May 4, 2009
Hand Woven
I don't know why I turned down that road. I never go there. Concentrating on the next task, I usually speed right by without ever noticing the iron gates, gravestones, and sign announcing the entrance to the cemetery. But today, in the cool rain and mist, I made the right hand turn and drove into St. Pat's Catholic cemetery.
Intrigued by the old markers, I drove slowly, taking mental notes of the dates and names. All the time, I wondered about the lives lived, the children lost, the spouses mourned.
Life is so short, I mused to myself.
That's when I saw it. Amid the Kennedy's, Mulhearn's, and O'Donnell's stood a big red stone family marker with "Burnes"engraved on the obelisk.
What? Burnes?
Curious, I got out and walked through the wet grass.
Yep..That's what it said...Thos Burnes: born December 24th 1833 died 1897.
Is Thos short for Thomas, I wondered.
Who was he? How did he get here? Could we be related?
Burnes is my maiden name and frankly, there aren't that many of us. I grew up in Michigan but I know my forefathers settled in Hopkins Minnesota, but I never expected to find my name in a cemetery in Northwest Iowa.
What did it mean? Did it mean that this place I fought so many years to call home could really be where my roots were?
I don't know. I don't know what it means, if anything.
I've thought a lot lately about God's big picture and how we only see a tiny, minuscule part.
My daughter is doing a project for English on families. They had to find relatives that came through Ellis Island. Well, all my ancestors have been here too long, but several of Brad's came from the Netherlands at the turn of the century and did make the journey through the Island. In searching for records, we found that there was a unique surname of good friends of ours from college that were on the same boat as Brad's ancestors. Amazing isn't it? To think that people over 100 years ago could have had a connection, long forgotten, that was remade by great grandchildren who never knew?
That's how it felt to see my name on that family marker. Could I have a connection to this place beyond marriage?
It would take much more research to find out, but the point is, God is ever weaving our lives together in a tapestry beyond out comprehension.
Our lives are so short and in two generations, no one will remember me or anything I've done, but somehow, how I live now, will impact future generations in ways I can't begin to imagine. It feels overwhelming and sweet, and lovely and big all at the same time.
"I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever.
Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom. One generation will commend your works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts. They will speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty and I will meditate on your wonderful works... They will tell of the power of your awesome works, and I will proclaim your great deeds. They will celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness."
Psalm 145:1-7(italics mine)
Intrigued by the old markers, I drove slowly, taking mental notes of the dates and names. All the time, I wondered about the lives lived, the children lost, the spouses mourned.
Life is so short, I mused to myself.
That's when I saw it. Amid the Kennedy's, Mulhearn's, and O'Donnell's stood a big red stone family marker with "Burnes"engraved on the obelisk.
What? Burnes?
Curious, I got out and walked through the wet grass.
Yep..That's what it said...Thos Burnes: born December 24th 1833 died 1897.
Is Thos short for Thomas, I wondered.
Who was he? How did he get here? Could we be related?
Burnes is my maiden name and frankly, there aren't that many of us. I grew up in Michigan but I know my forefathers settled in Hopkins Minnesota, but I never expected to find my name in a cemetery in Northwest Iowa.
What did it mean? Did it mean that this place I fought so many years to call home could really be where my roots were?
I don't know. I don't know what it means, if anything.
I've thought a lot lately about God's big picture and how we only see a tiny, minuscule part.
My daughter is doing a project for English on families. They had to find relatives that came through Ellis Island. Well, all my ancestors have been here too long, but several of Brad's came from the Netherlands at the turn of the century and did make the journey through the Island. In searching for records, we found that there was a unique surname of good friends of ours from college that were on the same boat as Brad's ancestors. Amazing isn't it? To think that people over 100 years ago could have had a connection, long forgotten, that was remade by great grandchildren who never knew?
That's how it felt to see my name on that family marker. Could I have a connection to this place beyond marriage?
It would take much more research to find out, but the point is, God is ever weaving our lives together in a tapestry beyond out comprehension.
Our lives are so short and in two generations, no one will remember me or anything I've done, but somehow, how I live now, will impact future generations in ways I can't begin to imagine. It feels overwhelming and sweet, and lovely and big all at the same time.
"I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever.
Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom. One generation will commend your works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts. They will speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty and I will meditate on your wonderful works... They will tell of the power of your awesome works, and I will proclaim your great deeds. They will celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness."
Psalm 145:1-7(italics mine)
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
State of Play
I'm not a big game player. When we have friends over, we rarely pull out the cards or game board. But I have been know to engage in a nasty little diversion I think you'll all recognize. It's the ever addicting past time where everyone's a loser called: "Let's Compare!"
As a woman, I'm an excellent player having practiced from an early age. No matter the category...houses, clothes, weight, husbands, kids, talents...I play often and competitively. But, as I just stated, I'm always the loser. the other day I played, in my mind, a rousing game in the spiritual category; comparing spiritual gifts, effectiveness, God's love, and maturity level with some of my sisters in Christ.
When I'd exhausted myself mentally, I realized, yet again, that the outcome is always the same. It' a ridiculous vain pursuit, this comparison game. Much like tic tack toe...always ending in scratch.
Upon reflection, I decided there are only three possible endings in the comparison game:
1. feel like a complete and total loser because of how short we fall
B. judge the other person so we'll feel better about ourselves or
3. (my personal favorite) accuse God of not caring about us as much as others because if He cared, He'd make us ok.
"For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you." Romans 12:3
Paul's words to the Romans bring both comfort and conviction to me. Inherent in the verse is permission, even exhortation, not to compare and that, of course in comforting. Conviction because I begin to realize that my comparisons come from a place of pride...a place of dissatisfaction with what God's given me, with how He's made me...a place that demands what I think I deserve and screams out "I want more for me!".
A few verses later, after Paul names several different gifts and talks about how we all have different strengths that we should use whole-heartedly, he says "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves." Romans 12:9-10
"You are not here for you" once again resounds in my head, ever calling me out of myself and into community...calling me away from the comparison game and into a more satisfying match of out-loving or out-gracing or out-giving my brothers and sisters...calling me away from pride and back to the foot of the cross where true selflessness exists.
As a woman, I'm an excellent player having practiced from an early age. No matter the category...houses, clothes, weight, husbands, kids, talents...I play often and competitively. But, as I just stated, I'm always the loser. the other day I played, in my mind, a rousing game in the spiritual category; comparing spiritual gifts, effectiveness, God's love, and maturity level with some of my sisters in Christ.
When I'd exhausted myself mentally, I realized, yet again, that the outcome is always the same. It' a ridiculous vain pursuit, this comparison game. Much like tic tack toe...always ending in scratch.
Upon reflection, I decided there are only three possible endings in the comparison game:
1. feel like a complete and total loser because of how short we fall
B. judge the other person so we'll feel better about ourselves or
3. (my personal favorite) accuse God of not caring about us as much as others because if He cared, He'd make us ok.
"For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you." Romans 12:3
Paul's words to the Romans bring both comfort and conviction to me. Inherent in the verse is permission, even exhortation, not to compare and that, of course in comforting. Conviction because I begin to realize that my comparisons come from a place of pride...a place of dissatisfaction with what God's given me, with how He's made me...a place that demands what I think I deserve and screams out "I want more for me!".
A few verses later, after Paul names several different gifts and talks about how we all have different strengths that we should use whole-heartedly, he says "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves." Romans 12:9-10
"You are not here for you" once again resounds in my head, ever calling me out of myself and into community...calling me away from the comparison game and into a more satisfying match of out-loving or out-gracing or out-giving my brothers and sisters...calling me away from pride and back to the foot of the cross where true selflessness exists.
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