Girl on the Metro

Another story ... This time from my first fiction class ...

Girl on the Metro

1.

Hello ... A whole month and I’m still walking around on glass. But people wouldn’t believe me if they knew, even though they see me every freakin day.

You know, I’ve always hated the phrase, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Those words give way too much credit to humanity methinks. Seeing to believe? How much do we really, really see? Shouldn’t people really say, "I’ll believe it when somebody can show me rock solid evidence, when it actually matters to me?" Leave a message at the tone … beep …

People see every moment. Yet no one can surely, truly believe what they see. No one recognizes people for what they are, or the experiences they wear on their skin like a tattoo. No one seems to ask for a name today because no one can see right in front of them, much less remember a few moments later. Why bother with formalities when there isn’t even time to look at someone. Anything can start with a hello, can’t it?

There is not-a-one, yet we all continue to see and place people in the tidiest of boxes, the emptiest of labels, in the simplest way. Fat Guys, Hot Girl, Baldy, Wino, Ugly, Gangster, Skinny Chick, Mother of Seven, Dude, Lesbo, Baldwin, Dead, Zombie. The list goes on and on and on, some names more interesting than other ones. Some seem more intimidating.

I have the honor and privilege to be one again for you today good, kind-eyed Sir.

Pleased to meet you, I’m just the “Girl on the Metro.” (But I would feel much more interesting if I were The Zombie.)

2.

I see you every day, week after week, but have not spoken to you. You’ve seen me every day, week after week, but have never spoken to me. I haven’t said more than two words to anyone on this train for a while now. It doesn’t matter to you how this damsel ended up here in Metropolis, boarding the “E” every day of the week at seven in the morning. It doesn’t matter why I prefer to stand instead of sit, even though my orange JanSport pack weighs over twenty pounds. Heaven forbid I have to sit down by someone. Sheesh!

You never wonder how I can afford that mauve leather bag I clutch to my chest, or the handmade canvas protected by two sheets of cardboard I snatched from outside by the dumpster. It seems to bother you that I don’t wash my hands, like I’m some kind of Street Waif. But I do wash! Two, sometimes three or more times a day, under scalding hot water until I turn cherry red.

Don’t worry good sir, its only pure pigment from mixing tempera on my fingers. Egg yolks are good for the skin you know, though I probably can’t say the same for the pigment. Now, if you could get past the stains, you would realize how enjoyably soft they really are. You can only guess I’m one of those Crazy Bohemian Chicks, minus the dreadlocks. You think you know the ones; they don’t eat meat and brazenly dance naked in the rain shamelessly. WooHoo! Rain exists to dance off the ground don’t ya know. There you go seeing again. Knock it off! Sheesh! Why do I have to be so discombobulated … so wary … so quiet when I find a guy interesting …

For a spell, maybe you just chalked it up to my wearing headphones. Possibly that’s why the girl is so silent. Oh no! Don’t worry. It’s not an attempt to ignore anyone (well, yes it is), it’s just my way of performing the unapproachable ‘Girl on the Metro’ you’ve got locked inside your head.  Sir, Maybe I didn’t have the cash to plug them in to anything, so I just make up the songs in my head. Take it as my Mad Bohemian Poet nature and not anything too important. I wouldn’t want to ruin your image, you know. The phones keep out unwanted questions – no one wants to bother with someone who shows as much interest in them as they do in me.

I see you Metro Boy between Glitter Girl and the Man with the Magazine. I can’t help but feel tense from your chance casual looks my way. You have a smile that could brighten my day, making it about the only thing I see as natural and untainted in my stained world. My heart is going b-dump, and begins to gallop. Still you continue with your discreet glances. Still I catch myself beginning to blush with every look you take. Does he think I’m pretty? Does this count as an admirer I wonder … Or perhaps I just look weird? Trying to act natural, not daring to take in your profile, well not too much. A peculiar and wonderful muddle of fear, hope and happiness churn within. You know, I really must find that necklace my guardian angel left behind! My fingers clutch tighter on the shiny hand rail as I turned to focus out a window towards the rear of the bus. The Bald Guy two seats back seemed unaware that my eyes were stealing his window outlook.

Everything looks grey out there ... The sidewalks, the windows, the roads, the sky. It’s wet too, the kind of damp that makes your Converse do the slight squeaking sound on the pavement thing. The grey pavements mind you. Then suddenly something’s there; colors that stand out against the grey! Spray paint, Art! Coming in from the outside and then knocks on the heart. Not sure what it says or means, but there is a history nonetheless. Maybe a Girl wrote that, or a Boy. Maybe Dropouts, maybe they’re Aspiring Writers. Possibly they’re Potheads, Photographers, or Freaks. Who knows? Who needs to know?  With art, everyone’s the same, and still not the same. I recognize the value of how I can ignore parts, yet let it pour out slices of me alike. Could it be a Lawyer maybe or a Lover? It may possibly be a Surreptitious Judge or ‘just’ an Offender? Hmmm …. Maybe it does matter. But hey, art is hard to interpret. Like people … Like the Metro Girls and Boys …

… Like me. I’m happy, quirky, kindhearted and caring. I’m also sad, lonely, depressing and barely here. I say every line is yet another note in my symphony of colors. I’m all sorts of broken pieces, insecurities, and half-finished characteristics fleetingly blended together, here to give a little shading to the surroundings. I’m in the bargain bin, the finished product will be sent out next Thursday if you please. In the end which is more real? The little ole me that everyone sees every single day, or the one that only I know? What is seen, what you all think you see, is not what’s in front of you. You see what I want you to see, what I want you to see. And that girl is not me. I hate her! If seeing is believing and I only appear when the lights are out or the doors are all closed, why doesn’t someone start banging on the door! Come on; get a crowbar … something … anything! Yeah, maybe it does matter.

I wish that you’d get the nerve to ask me why you rarely see me smile, to investigate me. I’ve always had this fantasy, a sweet dream really, of someone being so kind as to inquire. They’d take me away from this routine “E” train ride, to somewhere quiet and ask me if I was okay, ask me anything. Ask me over coffee perhaps at the cute little French Café on the corner. Yes, that’s the ticket, that’s how it would happen.

“I see you every day and I never see you smile. Are you okay?”

I’d slowly shake my head. No words yet. Can’t look anxious. I’d stare at the swirls in my coffee. It feels hot on my fingers, fighting the temperature of my vintage country mug. I puff on the steam rising in spirals.  “It reminds me that I want to shower again.”

There. Now I’m interesting.

“How come?” And then it would happen, “Tell me …”

But you won’t …

Best for me to build an uninviting fence I tell ya. No one would care to climb over or crawl under it when they think they know what is on the other side of it. Like a nasty Rottweiler snarling, licking its chops or something. No one will know I have a story. And if no one knows, I don’t have to tell it. So I’ll reserve myself until my time comes. I was stupid to think you could see Sir. I don’t blame you. You’ll just go on knowing nothing about me and its best it probably stays that way. What was I thinking? Hell, I don’t even like coffee!

I don’t want anyone to see anyways, unless they are willing to look. It would only be then that it would be worth the risk of seeing a face without seeing someone’s back again. Suppose what you will, I’ll always be ‘that’ girl to you Sir. Kind, reluctant and forgettable. You don’t have to listen, oh no you don’t. In fact I know that you won’t. I’m just that Bohemian Girl on the “E”. You know all there is about the Girl on the Metro, don’t cha now.

But you know nothing about these: The Survivor girl, The Abused, The Sick, The Beaten, The Hurting, and The Muse. Therefore, my good Sir, you know so little about me. You don’t have a clue about the nights I spent under my bed and under those men in whom I should have been able to trust. Do you understand what it feels like to be bent in half or snapped in two? Wham, bam, thank you mam. Do you Sir, have a clue what it feels like to not feel truly human. I open my mouth as if to say, “You’re still beautiful.” But we both know that’s not true. And the thought makes me want to cry, just a little, but I hide it so very well.

It really is wrong of me to think that because you see me every day that you are responsible to dig at me, and find the better parts of me. I shouldn’t think that of anyone. Everyone has secrets that they long to hide, hoping that they will not be exposed by anyone. Burying them in the backyard, veiled behind umbrella drinks in festive colors, and keeping them behind meaningless conversation, hidden by flowers and barbeques. I am the secret and I want to be free. I want to be known! I want to get rid that that girl who pretends to be me, sweet, gentle, smiling and ever so kind. The one you forget about when you are in the same room as them, and on the same goddamned train every day.

Goodbye Sniper. Do not think I owe you anything, and you’ll forget all about me and the words I’ve never said. I’m ready to break the rules of the ‘Girl on the Metro’. I wish you would make an effort, I’m so tired of being ‘hard to get’. I’ve tried to call out for so long but can never find my voice. No one is listening again today anyway; they only believe what they see. Well you know they all see me, why aren’t they looking?

The “E” slows to a gentle stop in front of the Café Toi et Moi. It’s her stop. Beneath the Tuesday morning traffic, the laughter of the teens in the back, and the flurry of activity of the fellow Metro-ites clambering to get on and off the train, there was a voice. It was a cautious masculine voice reaching towards the Bohemian picking up a handmade canvas, protected by two sheets of cardboard.

“See you tomorrow.”

3.

I gather my ‘art’, dangling my bag over my shoulder. I didn’t look back as I stepped of the train into the milieu. Nor did I look back as the train drove off down its tracks, leaving the busy sidewalk as my companion. I dare not see what look his face might show, apprehensive at what emotions his eyes would betray. Does he find me interesting? Or would his face reflect disgust? Or worse yet, it would be nothing at all. Better to live in uncertainty, than face what his face might display. Now I can save my hopes, fears and anticipations, for perhaps the next train ride.

The “Girl on the Metro” walks a few paces, peeks in the toy store window and then abruptly stops. Suddenly apprehending, and nearly getting rear ended by another bumbling pedestrian with an unpleasant word or two to say in the process.

Was that “See you tomorrow???” Hello …






Cafe Toi et Moi = Cafe Me and You

the Good, the Bad, the Ugly: The Grace thing revisited ....

Just an observation … I think can be demonstrated again and again, especially what one sees on the news, that what many are comfortable saying to an unbeliever, we aren’t comfortable saying to a Christian. But the bottom line is … The Gospel is for Christians, too! We all love the story of the Prodigal son. Have you thought about what goes on the day after the party? What if the son messed up again in a week? Or even in a couple of days. What if he doesn’t live the life of a grateful son much at all? Or to be more lifelike, what if he sometimes does and sometimes doesn’t act all that grateful? Does that change the Father? Does the older brother get to come back into the story and say “Aha!! I told you so; I was right all along!”

The thing is that our brothers and sisters can be a combination of the good, the bad, and the ugly. And Christ died for the sins of Christians too. And we need to hear that over and over again! We all need that grace to continue on the path of ‘glory to glory’! Grace is a word that describes how you feel before you kiss someone. I think it's like when a bird decides that it can fly. Lets dispense that grace to our brothers and sister so they can realize they are about to take flight!

I will be there for you ...

A quote I just had to share ...

"No one enjoys walking people through dark valleys or through painful reactions, but love says, I will be there for you. I may not know what to do or what to say. But I just cannot let you go through this alone!"

~Wayne Jacobsen

Just Give Me This

A cool little poem from the pen of "Author Unknown" ....

Just Give Me This A chance to start over...

A lover who keeps short accounts
A song that bubbles from my heart
A mind that can think in longhand as well as on an iBook
A prayer that is a lifestyle--not empty words.
A chance--just a chance--over and over and over again.

Isn't that grace?
Isn't that unmerited favor?
Isn't that the only way to make it from here to eternity
without cracking up--
crashing and burning--
wearing out to death?

Eternal life starts now.
Just give me this.

One Year Later: Life is a Sandwich

As this month ends I've become more aware of the passing of time and the passing of years.

It’s been a good time to think about the blessings of the past year since my heart attack a year ago yesterday and identify hopes and goals for the future. School ... Kids growing and becoming .... I would recommend you do that.

But that’s not all that happens, is it?

(By the way, those of you who have had no pain or disappointment in your life can skip to the end now. Thanks.)

We also realize that it’s one more year since that loss, or one more year of dealing with some pain or hurt. We say to ourselves, “Wow, it’s been 3 years, (or 5, or 20) and it still hurts! How can that be? I didn’t know it would last this long.”

What if it still hurts? Is that okay? What about the hurt that is going on and growing now?

I used to believe that life was a series of events and experiences and each one has its own time and emotions, then you move on to the next, kind of like flipping through a picture book. But I believe now that life happens in interwoven experiences and emotions, layers stacked on top of one another. It’s more like a sandwich you bite into. All of those experiences add to the taste and texture. Yes, sometimes I do wish that we could just have one at a time, preferably just the sweet ones. Never cared all that much for the dill pickles .... But hey, I'm blessed by saving anything in this life at all ...

We grieve over someone dying at the same time we learn of a new birth. A friend lands their dream job while our neighbor’s company closes. A friend tells you that she just met the man of her dreams while you are aching inside from the message you just got from your wife saying that your marriage is over. (Tomorrow is seperation day.) Your child says you are the best parent in the world while your other child is in total rebellion.

All of these layers happen. They are all there. They are all real. They all move us. We remember them. We become them.

This coming year will come with all of its own texture. Allow your life to have the texture it needs this year. Know that the layers are all there. You get to have all of them. You have to have all of them. That’s the deal. The only life you get is the real one.

It’s okay if the hurt is still there somewhere. But, it’s not the only layer, is it? God made life very thick. He must know what he was doing ...

A Thought From Ruth ...

Ruth 4:11-12 "... We are witnesses! May the Lord make the woman who is now coming into your home like Rachel and Leah, from whom all the nation of Israel descended! ...And may the Lord give you descendants by this young woman who will be like our ancestor Perez, the son of Tamar and Jacob."

What a really strange thing to say when one looks at it! Did the Elder really want Ruth to be barren like Rachel, or unloved like Leah was? Then in v12, it gets more bizarre, for did the Elder want Ruth to do a Tamar number and disguise Herself as a prostitute and bear a child by her father-in-law? This seems like at first glance like its saying, "I was your marriage was messed up so that you can do the good that only comes through hard times." So why would this toast possibly be thought of as good?

There can be a big obstacle to relating to God. There seems to be no higher goal really than feeling better now ~ the Bible calls this "the flesh." But the problem is that a lot of the times "Gods best" looks far different from we want it to. Could it be that the Elders prayer is for brokenness, the power to trust God no matter what? We pray often for God to maker things better, I know I do, and then things often stay the same ... then we take things into our own hands... We want things to improve! Fixed! Like now ...!

I think it goes like this ... Its like the Elder told Boaz, "You married a lovely, beautiful woman, and I want the best. But if the unthinkable happens and Ruth turns out to be conniving as Rachel or insecure as Leah, God will still being at work to bring about the good He intended."

This is a very freeing thing to ponder upon! I know for myself that having ones dreams smashed around a bit may be God's best after all. The broken dreams are actually just pieces in a bigger puzzle to help us get to the bigger dreams, not really dreamed up yet. The desire for feeling good now may be a limit on us to really fly later! Just some thoughts ... Have a blessed evening everyone! Tim

Down The Broken Road ...

Every long lost dream
Led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart
They were like Northern Stars
Pointing me on my way
Into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That lead me straight to you….
(Rascal Flatts, “Bless The Broken Road”)

It has been a difficult week! Now, I know – I’m no saint. Never have been. And I trust in the Gospel, that all who believe and are baptized will be saved. But it’s hard, at times, to recognize that it’s at least partly my failures at truly righteous living that have brought me (and those I love) to these kinds of impasses. A friend suggested to me that there is a big difference between prayers of supplication where I turn my prayer concern over to God and let it go, and praying just to manipulate God into giving me what I want. Ouch. There are many days I still can’t find the line between those two. I know beyond any doubt that I know how to do the latter much better than the former.

And then there are the words from singer Wayne Watson’s old classic, “Home Free:”

Out in the corridor,
We pray for life
A mother for her baby
A husband for his wife
Sometimes the good die young
It’s sad but true
But while we pray for one more heartbeat
The real comfort is in You
You know, pain has little mercy
And suff’rings no respecter or age
Of rank or position
I know that every prayer gets answered
But the hardest one to pray
Is slow to come
“O Lord, not mine
But your will be done….

Yeah, no kidding, Wayne. When I heard of older children’s ‘difficulties’ so to speak, I told him, “I keep telling God, ‘You’re not checking my list!’ And the fact that I even have a list is a good sign that I’m not quite all there, spiritually…”

In the end, I have to come back to the simple answer: God is God, and I am not. This side of the final trumpet, I will never know the “whys.” All I can do is sing and pray Wayne Watson’s chorus:

Home free
Eventually
At the ultimate healing
We will be home free…

A Lyrical Commentary on Scandals

These words by James Watkins summarize many of my feelings about the various Christian leadership scandals, but many others in our church universal where individuals are set up for temptation and failure by a system which isolates and flatters them. The church is supposed to be a body–a family–a place of intimacy and accountability. The way that we often do church makes it more like a free market corporation or something like that …. pedestals

Thousands

cheer,
chant,
and clap
as one of their own
is proudly carried toward the
lofty pedestal.
The audience

urges him
up the stairway,
step by step,
higher and higher,
far above the masses
on the prominent platform.
The media is there

with lights,
cameras
and prime-time coverage.
Publishers huddle

around the base,
for they know
pedestal-people
sell well.
The crowds

on satellite hook-ups
hang on
every last word,
for he seems
so close to eternity.
Yet he feels

unsure,
unworthy,
afraid
and very alone . . .
But at that height

no one notices,
no one questions,
no one confronts.
And so,

in a split second,
the trap door swings,
the noose tightens,
the crowd gasps.
Undeterred, the mob moves on

to build more pedestals;
to encourage another
of their own
up the starlit steps.
But mostly

to wonder
why those
at the pinnacle
keep falling
from the heights.
© 1988 James N. Watkins

Ever Have One Of Those days?

You know, the ones where…

The driver in front of you feels a steady 16-17 miles per hour will get them where they want to in plenty of time for the New Year’s celebration?

The people standing in line in front of you aren’t really sure why they are in line, but imagine they’ll figure it out, once they get to the front.

In the drive-through behind someone who just ordered lunch for their 32 co-workers, then has to change 9 of them at the second window?

Ah …. Today is a new day ….

Cannot Do This Alone

In the world of mystics and mysticism, these virtues set Christian mystics apart: mourning and the perseverance of suffering. Much of “pop-mysticism” is about avoiding suffering and “thinking happy thoughts”, while Christian mysticism takes a more head-on approach. The perseverance of suffering is required because much suffering is caused by our own misplaced desires and worldly attachments, so therefore, much suffering takes place as God purges us of those attachments.

As St. John of the Cross would explain, the darkness is not from God but from the light of God exposing our own darkness. The Dark Night of the Soul is the point at which most people give up, and usually take medication. For those who preserver, God rewards them with the secrets of His Kingdom.

The world tells us that sadness and pain is an unnatural state of being that we must escape at all costs (Prozac anyone?). The mystic heart knows that sadness and suffering are often the gateways to discovering the light of truth. Do not run from the darkness, for it brings the light.

With that ... Allow me to share this poem/prayer by Dietrich Bonhoeffer ...

Cannot Do This Alone O God,
early in the morning I cry to you.
Help me to pray
And to concentrate my thoughts on you:
I cannot do this alone.
In me there is darkness,
But with you there is light;
I am lonely, but you do not leave me;
I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
I do not understand your ways,
But you know the way for me…
Restore me to liberty,
And enable me to live now
That I may answer before you and before me.
Lord, whatever this day may bring,
Your name be praised.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you. Lament and mourn and weep! Let your laughter be turned to mourning and double-minded. your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.” - James 4:8-10

Sowing the Greed

This is the kind of stuff that drives me nuts! What does God’s word say about such things?

Off of TBN a few weeks ago ...

“You need to send a thousand dollars. If you cannot send a thousand, send five hundred… if all you have is a nickel, wrap it in tissue and put it in an envelope. If all you have is your clothes, send them.”

“If you want the power, you have to sow the seed”

“We are going together into a spirit of wealth.”

“Last night, you sowed to your ability. Tonight, you sow beyond your ability.”

“I need to give because I need favor. I need it because I need an anointing. I need it because I need power.”

“‘I am giving because I want my daughters to be daughters of Zion.’”

“You have got three days to get that into your mailbox. I am not afraid to say this. I am walking in my authority… if you do not postmark it by the tenth, we will not accept it. God says you have three days to get your thousand-dollar seed in the mail.”

“Give it to me and you will live. Give it to me and you will have more than enough.”“If all you have is $79.36, I double-dare you to empty your bank account. Close your account.” ~ Juanita Bynum

It is saying that when you get blessed you will have to look back and say, “When I gave that thousand dollars, God blessed me” Where does God get any glory, if you have to pay him to bless you? As a Christian, I am ashamed that the idea of “sowing seed” has been used to finance use and abuse of hard earned money to support a lavish lifestyle. This kind of thing comes up all the time in talking to and witnessing to those who do not know Jesus as Lord and savior. It’s really sad how even the unsaved can spot a con before we Christians do!

Tim, ending vent before he really gets worked up ...

Wild Iris

Love Should Grow Up Like a Wild Iris in the Fields

Love should grow up like a wild iris in the fields,

unexpected,

after a terrible storm,

opening a purple mouth to the rain,

with not a thought to the future,

ignorant of the grass and the graveyard of leaves around,

forgetting its own beginning.

Love should grow like a wild iris but does not.

Love more often is to be found in kitchens at the dinner hour,

tired out and hungry,

lingers over tables in houses where the walls record movements,

while the cook is probably angry,

and the ingredients of the meal are budgeted,

while a child cries feed me now and her mother not quite hysterical says over and over,

wait just a bit,

just a bit,

love should grow up in the fields like a wild iris

but never does really startle anyone,

was to be expected,

was to bepredicted,

is almost absurd,

goes on from day to day,

not quite blindly,

gets taken to the cleaners every fall,

sings old songs over and over,

and falls on the same piece of rug that never gets tacked down,

gives up,

wants to hide,

is not brave,

knows too much,

is not like an iris growing wild but more like staring into space in the street

not quite sure which door it was,

annoyed about the sidewalk being slippery,

trying all the doors,

thinking if love wished the world to be well,

it would be well.

Love should grow up like a wild iris,

but doesn't,

it comes fromthe midst of everything else,

sees like the iris of an eye,

when the light is right,

feels in blindness and when there is nothing else is tender,

blinks,

and opens face up to the skies.

~ Susan Griffin ~

Tim, The Messy Christian

Some thoughts that have been on my mind for awhile now that I would like to share with you this evening ........ If I was going to write a book, this would be the title--Tim, the Messy Christian. It's amazing to me that so many believers pretend to have it all together--all sorted out and tied up in a pretty bow. So many put on a happy face for Sunday morning and they talk the usual Christianese...all the while hiding from what they're really feeling or wishing they could say or tell someone about. What I'm curious about is why do so many messy Christians pretend to be all put-together? I wish I had happy thoughts about church and how it helps people. Right now I have trouble with it. I've seen some really great Churches too but I've seen so many times that the church shuns the messy people--they're just not really welcome. Jesus said, "Love one another as I have loved you." How many people did Jesus shun or turn away? How many people didn't feel good enough to be near Him or not welcome around Him? NONE. Jesus surrounded Himself with a rather motley crew of guys (and women too) who were basically nobody's by the worlds standards. These men, He would later call His disciples. Jesus welcomed tax collectors and prostitutes--those shunned by the world but important to Him. He welcomed children, whose presence was seen as a bother or burden--even to His disciples. To me, Jesus' mandate to love as He loved is clear. We need to follow His lead and love the messy people.

I've in the past pretended for a long time...but longed for a place where I can be me and come with all my issues--big and small--to a place that draws out healing and life and the Spirit of the Living God in one another. I don't want to be a part of a 'shiny' church, I want to be part of a community that is real and raw and life-giving. I'm not a cynic--I long for revival and life in the church and I believe it is possible, in fact in places it is happening. But it is possible only if we're willing to confront our weaknesses and stop pretending to be all put-together. We have to acknowledge that we are messy believers who don't have it all figured out, and we have to have that modeled from the leadership of our churches. Brokenness and humility and weakness are not signs of a bad Christian or a bad leader, they're signs of a real Christian--a real leader. So what are we afraid of? I don't know about you, but I'm drawn to the idea of messy Christians openly acknowledging their messiness and their need for their Savior. That's me, as best I can describe myself: a messy Christian who is daily in desperate need of and in love with his Savior.

Confusing being religious with discipline?

Some thoughts on a early Friday morning ....

There are a few things in Christianity which a lot of the time I don't really seem to enjoy at times frankly, and its simply the religious process of doing them that keeps me going. There are times I will really feel in the mood to read my bible, I get this massive thirst for knowledge and closeness to God. But to be honest these moments are not close to all the time and if I left my bible reading to just these moments, my bible knowledge would be very poor.

The same with prayer. I think its a struggle and its only the daily thought process of 1. Wake up - 2. Pray, that keeps my prayer life going.

Church is the same. I just don't always wake up wanting to go to church. Once I'm there I love it, and really consider it a blessing to be able to worship with other Christians. But its only the religious thinking in my head that thinks 'Sunday'='Church.' Then I'm out of bed and on my way. If I left church to days when I felt like going I'd be a very poor church goer.

So the question I'm asking is, why is being religious considered bad by so many Christians? Confusing being religious with discipline?

It keeps me going, and keeps me on track with God. Doing something spiritual religiously in my opinion, is no worse than going to work each day because you know you have to keep your life going. My daily, religious feeding of Him is what sustains my life. Sometimes I enjoy it, sometimes I don't - but I'm called to be disciplined in my Christian life.

Maybe I'm just confusing being religious with discipline...

The "Why God?" Kind of Thing ...

I’m in one of those melancholic moods, nothing to bad mind you. Just one of those “Why God?” kind of things I guess. God has given us visions of His kingdom-a world that works for everyone, where needs are met and gifts are called forth. Paul in Romans 8:22 tells us that “creation grows in labor awaiting” for Jesus’ arrival. So I wonder Lord, why must things be so hard sometimes? Why really must we wait? Why can’t you do what I can imagine the creator of the universe would do … go shazam! Just bring it on, let your kingdom come!

Things on earth seem most fragile since you made it. God would have figured out how mankind can progress without pollution. God would have figured out how to create an economic system that allows everyone to thrive, not just those favored by the marketplace or whatever. All people would live abundantly. Gods way isn’t about wealth I know, abundance and wealth are two different things…

I know that things I long for and “need” do not make up for the fact I’ll ‘kick the bucket’ someday. I know that “fate,” twists of fortune, whatever, in an instant, can and will rearrange my plans. Its happened before in both quiet and large ways. For the “better,” for the “worse.” Bottom line is that a person can count on very little for sure! It can make one nervous …

So one wonders … why doesn’t God swoop in here and tidy up the place. Don’t we all yearn for this? On our own we are so helpless to make a difference. We can try to live frugal, not pollute, get along, help out, encourage, make others smile … But if so many others don’t do these things what difference will my small gestures make? We obviously can’t save the world!

We can do all these things because God has given us a vision. Just because they are right to do. For the sake of those who follow. We can do these things because we believe Your kingdom will come someday. And its best to know that I helped, even if just a tiny bit …

But at times it isn’t easy …

Tim, just typing away…

slow, dull and confused

There are just those times I am.....slow and dull and confused. Chances are so are a lot of others.

But I think we, the confused, can find encouragement knowing that we are in pretty good company. Consider the many times Jesus looks at the disciples, the men who have been with him, watched him perform miracles...and he says - Are you still so dull? (Matthew: 15:16) or he asks them why they do not understand what he is REALLY saying (Matthew 16: 9, 11).....do you ever wonder at Jesus' patience with them? If He is that patient with THEM, how much more patience do you think He has with you and I?

I believe we grow over time and through much turmoil. Someone wrote that we don't learn about commitment by studying the definition, we learn by attempting to remain committed day after day, by trying and failing and trying again. We live it out to learn it, to grow. I believe our understanding comes that way as well. We learn a little and then we stumble and seem dull....and then we learn a little more. As we live our lives with Him. Growth does not occur at the pinnacle, growth is what happens on our way up TO the pinnacle, and it is followed by another valley and an often arduous climb after that.

So take courage if you feel dull, I tend to believe it is a sign that we are in the midst of a valley or on the upward slope of a new mountain, on the verge of new growth!

Thoughts in the morning ...

Another Love Quote

Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get . .

Only what you are expected to give ...

Which is everything.

~Author Unknown

In The Tub Being Scrubbed

I Corinthians 6:9, “Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, 10 nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God. 11 And such were some of you. But you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God.”

**************
Traditional interpretation of this list says if you are a (or an):

evil doer (unrighteous)

goes after the desires of the flesh (fornicator)

worships images (Idolater)

untrue when married (adulterers)

abusers

Homosexual

Thief

Covetous

drunkard

reviler (party animal?)

Extortion (black mailer etc).

You shall not inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. In other words, Go straight to Hell do not pass go …


But I’ve been wondering. Paul goes on to say: “And such were some of you… but you have been washed…”Could it be, that it’s not that they have overcome those sins, but that they are no longer allowing themselves to be identified with those sins? They are not any longer saying I’m these things, but they are saying I’ve been washed, I’m in Christ? That Eternity is based on Who I know and Whose I am, not what I do? That I should no longer identify myself with my flavor of sins, cause according to Romans it’s no longer me that’s sinning anyway? This is in no way to excuse sin in our lives by any means … But more that we are currently in the tub being scrubbed!

What do you think?

When I Need to Fall Apart

When I Need to Fall Apart

We don't always have to be strong.
Sometimes our strength
is expressed in being vulnerable.
Sometimes we need to fall apart
to regroup and stay on track.

We all have days when we cannot push
any harder, cannot hold back self-doubt,
cannot stop focusing on fear,
cannot be strong.

There are days when we cannot focus
on being responsible.
Occasionally,
We don't want to get out of our pajamas.
Sometimes we cry in front of people.
We expose our tiredness, irritability,
or anger.
Those days are okay.
They are just okay.

Part of taking care of ourselves means
we give ourselves permission to "fall apart"
when we need to.
We do not need
to be perpetual towers of strength.
We ARE strong.
We have proven that.

Our strength will continue if we allow
ourselves the courage to feel scared,
weak, and vulnerable when we need
to experience those feelings.

Today, help me to know that is it okay
to allow myself to be human.
Help me not to feel guilty or punish myself
when I need to "fall apart...
but to accept it as part of life
And part of being human...

author unknown

Divorce and the Woman at the Well

Awhile ago I was on a discussion site which was discussion the issue of divorce. It always amazes me how this subject gets so "heated". Suddenly there are those who are supposed to be apostles of grace get right into rule keeping, guilt and condemnation and I find it truly sad.

That said, I am a lot more interested in the big picture of the significance of Jesus than I am the details of any controversial passage. Let me give you an example:

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.” Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.” (John 4:15-18)

I am not quoting all of this story, because the majority of the people here know it well. It’s one of the great chapters of the Bible, and it is a great “big picture” passage. The woman’s sexual past, marital history, Samaritan ethnicity and gender were of no particular interest to Jesus. What was important? This woman was filling up her life with substitutes for the significance and love of her true husband, Yahweh. She needed living water, and she needed the one who gives water without cost and without deserving it. She needed to believe in God’s messiah, and come to receive from him, eternal life in all its dimensions.

That’s how I understand Jesus. The primary thing is not that I have screwed up my life, and may continue to do so. That’s a given. The primary thing is Jesus himself, and the Gospel that comes to me in him alone.

I used to work at a store where several Christians worked. One of the guys we Christian folk witnessed to was a young man who was divorced and remarried. One evening, another Christian- a Church of Christ guy- and I were talking religion with this fellow, and the Church of Christ guy said that if Harold became a Christian, he would need to go back to his first wife and remarry her!

Yes, you read that right. Now, what was this person thinking of? He was thinking of Jesus’ words in Matthew 5 and 19. There had been no adultery. The guys marriage broke up, and he tried again. That did not matter to the Church of Christ guy. The marriage was illegitimate and needed to be abandoned, and the first marriage restored. Then God would be happy, of course, because that’s what God is all about: people repenting correctly.

I think that if the Church of Christ guy had been at the well with this woman and Jesus, he would have listened, and when Jesus left, he would have said, “Lady….let me add a few things to what Jesus said here. Your various arrangements have all been sinful, and if you become a believer in the messiah, you will need to go back to husband #1, if you can find him, and make that marriage work again, no matter what. Repentance is very important to real faith, and we cannot overlook these illegitimate sinful relationships. That would be a bad witness.”

Of course, that would be really stupid, but it would be taking the verses seriously. Not the Gospel, but the verses. The problem with divorce and remarriage is that there is no comprehensive writing on the subject in the bible. What I'm saying is that no writer sat down and wrote an entire discourse on the whole subject of marriage. What you get is bits and pieces in response to particular questions. We are left to put the whole together.

I not against people being convicted against remarriage for sure. I am convicted against drinking for example in my case, but I don't attempt to make it a law for others. But this is the conclusion I've come up with under guidance of the Holy Spirit ...

God hates divorce. Malachi 2:16

He also forgives. 1 John 1:9, John 8:1-11

If you seek answers to divorce according to the law, then you will be condemned by the law.

If you confess your sin…and seek His forgiveness, you will be forgiven by His Eternal Grace.

Your choice: Guilt or Grace!?

Christ died as our punishment. He who knew no sin, became sin for us (2 Corinthians 5:21).

How cool is that?!