Are there people in your life that you look at with log-vision? Impossible individuals who make your mind shut down and skin crawl? And ouch, people who you discern have a stronghold that they need to deal with that make them unfit to ministry?
I must confess that there are some people that I just can't or won't receive from. Not because what they share or do is off biblically. Not because they are walking in some hideous sin.
No, I can't receive from them because there is something about them that rubs me the wrong way. The way they pray, something they've said to me in the past that irked me, their hairstyle, their weight, silly external things that somehow corrupt their ministry in my mind because it reveals a deeper attitude, stronghold or sin that they haven't dealt with.
Wow, I'm shallow. Or am I afraid? Afraid that if I receive their 'tainted' interpretation that I would somehow be led astray or worse, fall into the same sin or weakness that they apparently still struggle against.
If I am honest with myself, it's much more the second option than the first. People who bug me the most are those who still struggle with areas or strongholds that I've battled against. Maybe my sensitivity to those folks is actually pointing out that I have yet to gain complete freedom in the same areas that they so obviously still struggle.
Remember the parable about the log and the speck? Yep, seems to me that I have a huge log sticking out of my eyeballs and I have been smacking those poor folks upside the head with it.
Our wrong attitudes towards our speck offenders are made all the more valid in our minds when most people around us agree with our assessment of these odious humans. So, is that proof of their invalidity or is it instead proof of a pandemic stronghold within the body? Ooch!
If we disapprove of these people so adamantly, how do we get to a place where we can bear to view them with grace and compassion? Seems to me we need to, first of all repent, then we need to don some flannel and become spiritual lumberjacks. Take up the chainsaw of repentance, hack off our logs and stop bludgeoning folks with our judgments. Easier said than done, you say. Tell me about it!
Maybe once we start making firewood, we will begin to see the wounds we've inflicted with our self-righteous logs of judgmental doom. Wounds, not only on the offensive folks, but the more severe self inflictions of unforgiveness, self-judgment, guilt, and condemnation that we've heaped on ourselves. We also need to go help our agreeing brothers and sisters remove the log, that our words and attitudes towards the offenders, helped fertilize.
So, to sum up, if something about a person makes you snarl or snap, instead of reacting in your flesh and finding a 'spiritual' justification, try stopping and checking for logs by examining your own heart first.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
For Meagan
She staggered down the stairs this morning, her hair a wild mess of dark brown curls. Giving me a groggy wave, she shuffled into the bathroom. I had to smile, as I noticed the pockets of her pajama pants flap at her side because she hadn't bothered to tuck them in when she got dressed for bed.
Waif thin and petite, my soon-to-be twenty-one-year-old daughter had stayed out late with her friends. It had been the last night of spring break before she went back to college.
It's the little things about someone you love, that you miss most when they are away. Those silly untucked pockets, or the way she walks on her tiptoes when she's being goofy at the store. I think of those moments with tender melancholy, now that she has packed up and headed back to school.
Other precious moments of her childhood come to mind. My daughter when she was three, long blond waves of hair obscuring her impish grin as she pinches at the air. Her adoring father had just told her not to get any cuter.
"What are you doing?" we ask with confused amusement as she continues to pluck at the air and gather pretend nothings into her arms.
"I'm getting more cuters," she answered, daring us to stop her.
My husband, never one to turn from a challenge, proceeded to chase Meagan around our tiny living room. Catching her and wrestling her onto the couch, he then snatched the cuters and set them free while my daughter plucked more out of the air.
Finally, he had to explain to her that she had exceeded her cute limit and could not possibly be any cuter or the world just couldn't stand it.
This morning Meagan and I shared coffee at Starbucks and talked about anything that came to mind. Some of our conversation was serious, but most of it was goofy, like a Gilmore Girls script with no plot line attached. Or a series of random movie quotes interspersed with inside jokes that made us laugh, but would mystify any observers.
As we drank coffee, I felt something like mourning, and yet it was sweet. Tears come to my eyes as I think about how precious a treasure she is to me. Those big grey-blue irises outlined in black that grew dark with concern as we sincerely discussed a friend's problem, then twinkled with mischief as she reached across the table and pinched me, just because.
Her life is such a joy to me. Remembering the child she was and seeing the woman she is now becoming. What a blessing it is to see her grow and become, but it's mixed with the bittersweet because she's not that giggling little girl anymore, squealing through the house as she ran from her father.
Disobedient girl, I've told her all her life that she could never grow up, but just like her father she's taken it as a challenge and defies me.
Well, you show me sweetheart, you grow up and become the awesome woman that God created you to be. I love you very much.
Waif thin and petite, my soon-to-be twenty-one-year-old daughter had stayed out late with her friends. It had been the last night of spring break before she went back to college.
It's the little things about someone you love, that you miss most when they are away. Those silly untucked pockets, or the way she walks on her tiptoes when she's being goofy at the store. I think of those moments with tender melancholy, now that she has packed up and headed back to school.
Other precious moments of her childhood come to mind. My daughter when she was three, long blond waves of hair obscuring her impish grin as she pinches at the air. Her adoring father had just told her not to get any cuter.
"What are you doing?" we ask with confused amusement as she continues to pluck at the air and gather pretend nothings into her arms.
"I'm getting more cuters," she answered, daring us to stop her.
My husband, never one to turn from a challenge, proceeded to chase Meagan around our tiny living room. Catching her and wrestling her onto the couch, he then snatched the cuters and set them free while my daughter plucked more out of the air.
Finally, he had to explain to her that she had exceeded her cute limit and could not possibly be any cuter or the world just couldn't stand it.
This morning Meagan and I shared coffee at Starbucks and talked about anything that came to mind. Some of our conversation was serious, but most of it was goofy, like a Gilmore Girls script with no plot line attached. Or a series of random movie quotes interspersed with inside jokes that made us laugh, but would mystify any observers.
As we drank coffee, I felt something like mourning, and yet it was sweet. Tears come to my eyes as I think about how precious a treasure she is to me. Those big grey-blue irises outlined in black that grew dark with concern as we sincerely discussed a friend's problem, then twinkled with mischief as she reached across the table and pinched me, just because.
Her life is such a joy to me. Remembering the child she was and seeing the woman she is now becoming. What a blessing it is to see her grow and become, but it's mixed with the bittersweet because she's not that giggling little girl anymore, squealing through the house as she ran from her father.
Disobedient girl, I've told her all her life that she could never grow up, but just like her father she's taken it as a challenge and defies me.
Well, you show me sweetheart, you grow up and become the awesome woman that God created you to be. I love you very much.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Heart's Desire
In this world of politics and posturing, what does unity look like?
In this world of celebrity and ambition, how is compassion expressed?
So much ugliness and hatred, when outward beauty and arrogance are touted as good character qualities.
So little respect, while every facet of life is micro-examined and found lacking.
Integrity, what's that, when a person is considered noble for announcing his differences no matter how perverse?
Wisdom? How is saying that you believe everything wise?
Wow, you might say in agreement, our world is a mess.
Yes, I answer, but I was describing the church.
How have we, the Body of Christ Jesus, become so much like the world?
"Dear Lord, I beseech you, drop the Spirit of repentance upon your bride. Let us not be a bitter whore. Convict our hearts. Cause us to be despondent with grief for how we represent You to a lost and dying world.
May Your Body rise up, shedding off all the encrusted filthy rags of ugliness that she rationalizes as practical and realistic. Let us then embrace the cleansing Blood of Jesus' sacrifice, bathing in the holiness that will instill beauty once again.
My precious Lord, may your body no longer be a dysfunctional amalgamation of malformed parts, mutated by centuries of hate and judgment. May we instead repent and allow the healing of yielding completely to You. May your bride become complete and radiant, healthy and mature.
Let faith, love and hope explode in every limb, organ and sinew of your Bride, causing an extreme outpouring of Love and violent passion to burst from her body. Then she walk about this world causing blast radius' wherever she treads, annihilating anything that dares stand against your lavish grace and mercy.
Let is be, make it so, I know I pray in agreement to Your heart's desire. In Jesus' name."
(I humble ask you to check you heart, if you read this with an accusatory thought toward others and not yourself. If you be in the Lord, you are a part of this body and therefore as responsible for her welfare as all the other parts. Love her, embrace her, do not shun her. You can't function outside of her. You will die.)
In this world of celebrity and ambition, how is compassion expressed?
So much ugliness and hatred, when outward beauty and arrogance are touted as good character qualities.
So little respect, while every facet of life is micro-examined and found lacking.
Integrity, what's that, when a person is considered noble for announcing his differences no matter how perverse?
Wisdom? How is saying that you believe everything wise?
Wow, you might say in agreement, our world is a mess.
Yes, I answer, but I was describing the church.
How have we, the Body of Christ Jesus, become so much like the world?
"Dear Lord, I beseech you, drop the Spirit of repentance upon your bride. Let us not be a bitter whore. Convict our hearts. Cause us to be despondent with grief for how we represent You to a lost and dying world.
May Your Body rise up, shedding off all the encrusted filthy rags of ugliness that she rationalizes as practical and realistic. Let us then embrace the cleansing Blood of Jesus' sacrifice, bathing in the holiness that will instill beauty once again.
My precious Lord, may your body no longer be a dysfunctional amalgamation of malformed parts, mutated by centuries of hate and judgment. May we instead repent and allow the healing of yielding completely to You. May your bride become complete and radiant, healthy and mature.
Let faith, love and hope explode in every limb, organ and sinew of your Bride, causing an extreme outpouring of Love and violent passion to burst from her body. Then she walk about this world causing blast radius' wherever she treads, annihilating anything that dares stand against your lavish grace and mercy.
Let is be, make it so, I know I pray in agreement to Your heart's desire. In Jesus' name."
(I humble ask you to check you heart, if you read this with an accusatory thought toward others and not yourself. If you be in the Lord, you are a part of this body and therefore as responsible for her welfare as all the other parts. Love her, embrace her, do not shun her. You can't function outside of her. You will die.)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
God is so cool
I admit to being a less than adequate individual at times. Yes, I know that statement shocks many of you, since you think I'm so awesome. -snort- Not that I'm berating myself here, it's just that I think it's healthy to recognize your short comings. The unhealthy part about that is when you continually beat yourself up over your lacks and, believe me, been there, done that, got t-shirt and commemorative coffee mug.
It's really awesome though, when the fruit of your life indicates that there are some areas where we have gotten a few things right. Fruit, in this instance being my beautiful daughters, they continually blow me away. It is by the grace of God that my husband and I managed to raise three such extraordinary individuals. Are they perfect, no, but I'm their mother so I choose to see their awesmazingness.
So, on this occasion when I point out one of my daughter's neatnesses, let it be known to the general cosmos that all three of my daughters are wonderfully gifted and talented ladies who know God and love the peoples around them.
That being said, I wish to toot my fifteen-year-old daughter's horn. She came home excited because the English teacher finally gave the class a free writing assignment instead of the usual 'write about this' assignments. Jetta was given the choice to write anything she wanted and she was told that the class would read their stories out loud on the day they were due.
Here is what Jetta wrote and read to her captivated audience:
Here I am, laying this down at your feet. All my thoughts and insecurities are for you to listen to. Please listen.
My heart aches, wanting to burst as the memories dance around as we once did. Slowly and gracefully you swept me away. All of me fills with longing now. All I want is to see your face. All I ask is for your arms to surround me and for your love to cover me with a strong embrace. All I need is for you to show me you, for you to show me, me. You reflect me, and I truly miss that.
WHERE ARE YOU! I cry out, and I wait, but I hear no reply. I don’t see you any place. What am I doing wrong? Why do you ignore me? My eyes become the Nile after a long storm. You’ve shown me love before, so why is now different from then? HUH?! Has every good feeling you’ve given me mean nothing? What do you want me to do? Tell me.
The thoughts of you are flooding my every pore. I love you, can’t you see that in the way I’ve chosen to live for you? I focus my all on living in your image, and you choose to ignore me now, when I need you most. The stress is destroying me. My mind hurts with every thought of you leaving me alone, of being alone. This empty void is now my chest. What can fill me now, after I know what its like to be with you, nothing can compare to the love you bring. My everything shakes as I think, “What do I do now?”
In this darkness I’ve created, I wait, I sit. What would you do. OF COURSE! You! YOU’re the key! This whole time I’ve been talking about living for you, but I never really was. New adrenalin runs through me as I hear faint whispers breaking the dark like a lighthouse.
“My love, my creation, why have you hidden your face from me? You say you love me, yet you did things that hurt me to see. Though you have not seen me, I have always been there for you, helping you. I love you more than you know, more than you could ever imagine. No matter what you do, there is nothing that can make me love you less, only more, and more and more and more. It truly broke my heart to see you broken, but now you realize how to love, not caring about yourself, but about the one who loves you back.”
These sounds rushed into my ears like a river of living words, with bright and colorful textures mixed in with the soothing, warm waters. These words took away my feet, as well as my breath, overwhelming me. My body crumbled under the beautiful feeling that covered me from head to toe, from skin to spirit. Together, we were dancing again, in this time that nothing can remove from my memory, from my being. We sat for hours, the light growing brighter every second you were with me, my smile growing larger with every word you spoke softly into my brain. Eventually, I had to get up and continue with life. But this time I know for a fact that you are never, EVER gone from me. You love me.
“In Christ alone, my hope is found. He is my light, my strength, my song.”
Wow! Her story brought tears from some of her classmates, not jeers. It's so cool to see my kids knowing my God and expressing Him so amazingly.
It's really awesome though, when the fruit of your life indicates that there are some areas where we have gotten a few things right. Fruit, in this instance being my beautiful daughters, they continually blow me away. It is by the grace of God that my husband and I managed to raise three such extraordinary individuals. Are they perfect, no, but I'm their mother so I choose to see their awesmazingness.
So, on this occasion when I point out one of my daughter's neatnesses, let it be known to the general cosmos that all three of my daughters are wonderfully gifted and talented ladies who know God and love the peoples around them.
That being said, I wish to toot my fifteen-year-old daughter's horn. She came home excited because the English teacher finally gave the class a free writing assignment instead of the usual 'write about this' assignments. Jetta was given the choice to write anything she wanted and she was told that the class would read their stories out loud on the day they were due.
Here is what Jetta wrote and read to her captivated audience:
Here I am, laying this down at your feet. All my thoughts and insecurities are for you to listen to. Please listen.
My heart aches, wanting to burst as the memories dance around as we once did. Slowly and gracefully you swept me away. All of me fills with longing now. All I want is to see your face. All I ask is for your arms to surround me and for your love to cover me with a strong embrace. All I need is for you to show me you, for you to show me, me. You reflect me, and I truly miss that.
WHERE ARE YOU! I cry out, and I wait, but I hear no reply. I don’t see you any place. What am I doing wrong? Why do you ignore me? My eyes become the Nile after a long storm. You’ve shown me love before, so why is now different from then? HUH?! Has every good feeling you’ve given me mean nothing? What do you want me to do? Tell me.
The thoughts of you are flooding my every pore. I love you, can’t you see that in the way I’ve chosen to live for you? I focus my all on living in your image, and you choose to ignore me now, when I need you most. The stress is destroying me. My mind hurts with every thought of you leaving me alone, of being alone. This empty void is now my chest. What can fill me now, after I know what its like to be with you, nothing can compare to the love you bring. My everything shakes as I think, “What do I do now?”
In this darkness I’ve created, I wait, I sit. What would you do. OF COURSE! You! YOU’re the key! This whole time I’ve been talking about living for you, but I never really was. New adrenalin runs through me as I hear faint whispers breaking the dark like a lighthouse.
“My love, my creation, why have you hidden your face from me? You say you love me, yet you did things that hurt me to see. Though you have not seen me, I have always been there for you, helping you. I love you more than you know, more than you could ever imagine. No matter what you do, there is nothing that can make me love you less, only more, and more and more and more. It truly broke my heart to see you broken, but now you realize how to love, not caring about yourself, but about the one who loves you back.”
These sounds rushed into my ears like a river of living words, with bright and colorful textures mixed in with the soothing, warm waters. These words took away my feet, as well as my breath, overwhelming me. My body crumbled under the beautiful feeling that covered me from head to toe, from skin to spirit. Together, we were dancing again, in this time that nothing can remove from my memory, from my being. We sat for hours, the light growing brighter every second you were with me, my smile growing larger with every word you spoke softly into my brain. Eventually, I had to get up and continue with life. But this time I know for a fact that you are never, EVER gone from me. You love me.
“In Christ alone, my hope is found. He is my light, my strength, my song.”
Wow! Her story brought tears from some of her classmates, not jeers. It's so cool to see my kids knowing my God and expressing Him so amazingly.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Woo!
Woo! Say it with me, woo! Doesn't that just make your less than thrilling day just a bit more exciting?
My family was watching Wheel of Fortune one night and we became amused by one of the contestants. When it was his turn and he was winning, woo! flew unhindered from his mouth.
"Woo! Can I have an N please, Pat? Woo!"
"Sure, there are two N's"
"Woo! Woo! I'd like to spin, woo! Can I have a T please? Woo!"
"Why yes, you may. Vanna, please show him the T."
"Woo!"
That honestly was not an exaggeration, the man was one excited woo! machine. So, what does my family do, we began to woo! Dad says woo! I woo! Glory woo's! Then Jetta woo's! We entertained ourselves through the commercial break and the rest of the game show, wooing successively like a nest of delighted baby owls at feeding time.
That became the theme of the night, though we began fitting woo! into a random sentences or wooing when we liked something. "Woo! This is good ice cream." "I love you, woo!" "Wife woo! Will you take this glass to the sink while you are heading that way?"
Of course, to take the ridiculous to the extreme, Woo! is now an acceptable greeting in our home. Woo! Can be heard iminating from the bathroom after a particularly long trip or when someone has completed their homework. And it's not enough that woo is shouted, it is necessary for all hearing said woo! to repeat the outburst with gusto and the original wooee to repeat back any echos until the woo! storm eventually passes.
Why, you ask yourself seeing once again the rampant insanity which is quite normal in the Barganier household?
I submit to you a simple answer. Woo! Why not?
My family was watching Wheel of Fortune one night and we became amused by one of the contestants. When it was his turn and he was winning, woo! flew unhindered from his mouth.
"Woo! Can I have an N please, Pat? Woo!"
"Sure, there are two N's"
"Woo! Woo! I'd like to spin, woo! Can I have a T please? Woo!"
"Why yes, you may. Vanna, please show him the T."
"Woo!"
That honestly was not an exaggeration, the man was one excited woo! machine. So, what does my family do, we began to woo! Dad says woo! I woo! Glory woo's! Then Jetta woo's! We entertained ourselves through the commercial break and the rest of the game show, wooing successively like a nest of delighted baby owls at feeding time.
That became the theme of the night, though we began fitting woo! into a random sentences or wooing when we liked something. "Woo! This is good ice cream." "I love you, woo!" "Wife woo! Will you take this glass to the sink while you are heading that way?"
Of course, to take the ridiculous to the extreme, Woo! is now an acceptable greeting in our home. Woo! Can be heard iminating from the bathroom after a particularly long trip or when someone has completed their homework. And it's not enough that woo is shouted, it is necessary for all hearing said woo! to repeat the outburst with gusto and the original wooee to repeat back any echos until the woo! storm eventually passes.
Why, you ask yourself seeing once again the rampant insanity which is quite normal in the Barganier household?
I submit to you a simple answer. Woo! Why not?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Compassion
So, as I've been laid up with a bad back this week, I've been contemplating compassion.
Some of us have a natural tendency to be compassionate. We look at others with mercy and try to perceive them beyond our own understanding and feel their pain. Some of us, in varying degrees, do not so easily lean toward compassion. But, since God loves us and wants to answer our prayers to be more like Him, He so generously(?) allows circumstances in our lives that create compassion in us. As most of you would agree, I personally prefer the natural compassion route, but painful or difficult circumstances do broaden our perspectives on things.
For example, this last summer, my youngest daughter, Jetta, injured her back at a strength training summer camp. She struggled with months of pain, numerous doctor visits and tests as her strained back very slowly tried to heal. This week was the first time my back, an old injury from my house cleaning business days, has given me trouble since Jetta's accident. One day as I ooched and ouched my way down onto the couch, Jetta said to me, and this is a translation from teenagerese so insert random dudes and other vernaculars. "Mom, I feel your pain. Before, when your back hurt, I didn't understand as much as I do now. I'm sorry you are hurting so much."
Did my precious kind-hearted daughter have compassion before, yes, in a general sense. However, through her own trials and pains, a deeper empathy was birthed in her toward those who suffered with back pain. She has been so understanding and attentive to my needs this week that's it's almost brought me to tears at times.
So, as is ooch and eek my way through this week and the temptation to feel sorry for myself whines in my brain, I've been reminded of Jetta's words and gratitude has helped keep me from slipping off into depressionland, which is my usual reaction. Gratitude for an understanding teenage nursemaid. Gratitude for a loving Savior who didn't think it beneath himself to come to earth and become acquainted with suffering. Gratitude that God doesn't allow me to continue in the destructive depressive behavior of mental abuse, because my back would be less likely to go out if I exercised and carried less weight, by teaching me to be grateful instead. And gratitude for the opportunity to view my unfortunate predicament as chance to become all the more compassionate toward others in similar circumstances.
It's all in how we choose to see things. Will you choose a whiny self-absorbed perspective that hobbles your spiritual growth or will you choose to look beyond your present discomfort and find gratitude for this opportunity to grow?
Some of us have a natural tendency to be compassionate. We look at others with mercy and try to perceive them beyond our own understanding and feel their pain. Some of us, in varying degrees, do not so easily lean toward compassion. But, since God loves us and wants to answer our prayers to be more like Him, He so generously(?) allows circumstances in our lives that create compassion in us. As most of you would agree, I personally prefer the natural compassion route, but painful or difficult circumstances do broaden our perspectives on things.
For example, this last summer, my youngest daughter, Jetta, injured her back at a strength training summer camp. She struggled with months of pain, numerous doctor visits and tests as her strained back very slowly tried to heal. This week was the first time my back, an old injury from my house cleaning business days, has given me trouble since Jetta's accident. One day as I ooched and ouched my way down onto the couch, Jetta said to me, and this is a translation from teenagerese so insert random dudes and other vernaculars. "Mom, I feel your pain. Before, when your back hurt, I didn't understand as much as I do now. I'm sorry you are hurting so much."
Did my precious kind-hearted daughter have compassion before, yes, in a general sense. However, through her own trials and pains, a deeper empathy was birthed in her toward those who suffered with back pain. She has been so understanding and attentive to my needs this week that's it's almost brought me to tears at times.
So, as is ooch and eek my way through this week and the temptation to feel sorry for myself whines in my brain, I've been reminded of Jetta's words and gratitude has helped keep me from slipping off into depressionland, which is my usual reaction. Gratitude for an understanding teenage nursemaid. Gratitude for a loving Savior who didn't think it beneath himself to come to earth and become acquainted with suffering. Gratitude that God doesn't allow me to continue in the destructive depressive behavior of mental abuse, because my back would be less likely to go out if I exercised and carried less weight, by teaching me to be grateful instead. And gratitude for the opportunity to view my unfortunate predicament as chance to become all the more compassionate toward others in similar circumstances.
It's all in how we choose to see things. Will you choose a whiny self-absorbed perspective that hobbles your spiritual growth or will you choose to look beyond your present discomfort and find gratitude for this opportunity to grow?
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