Compare and Contrast

There are so many people who drink health shakes. I know this because they post about it constantly. They post photos, statistics and earnest proclamations of success and happiness.

Some "friends" have even sent invitations to shake parties, and announcements of shake specials.

Gut honest: (pun intended) I find this mildly annoying. They don't know what's going on in my life. I'm just a name on their contact list. Since they have no idea about my struggles, their enthusiasm is suspect and their invitation seems offensive. I receive it as this: "Hey! You're obviously overweight! You should try meal replacements and see if you can improve yourself."

To the contrary, I have a friend who is a registered dietician. She is the picture of good health. She drinks quarts of water, eats whole foods and enjoys lots of outdoor activities. We've been friends for years. Our kids have played together, we've celebrated birthdays, shared weekends, and chatted through many of life's mysteries. I'll admit (and she knows this) that when I started hanging out with her, I thought some of her habits and beliefs were strange. But she is happy and helpful, and I am drawn to her company and conversation.

She is humble and steadfast. I have never once felt ashamed or condemned by my lack of nutritional education or discipline. She spurs me on toward making good choices, sets a great example, admits she's not perfect, and patiently journeys with me as a friend. It is good for me to be around her. I learn. I grow. I'm equipped and inspired to make good choices. When I have a question about nutrition, she is my go-to girl. She knows me and offers sound advice ... like plant a garden and drink more water:)

NOW...

What If ....

What if we exchanged the food with faith, I wonder if this contrast resembles what some people might think of "Christians".

Perhaps they would say ....

There are so many people who read the Bible and go to church. I know this because they post about it constantly. They post photos, statistics and earnest proclamations of success and happiness.

Some "friends" even send scripture passages and invitations to special church activities.

Honestly, I find this mildly annoying. They don't know what's going on in my life. I'm just a name on their contact list. Since they have no idea about my struggles, their enthusiasm is suspect and their invitation seems offensive. I receive it as this: "Hey! You're obviously not living right! You should try coming to church and see if you can improve yourself."

To the contrary, I have a friend who is a believer in Christ. He is the picture of goodness & health. He prays, reads his Bible, works hard, loves his family and worships with his church. We've been friends for years. Our kids have played together, we've celebrated birthdays, shared weekends, and chatted through many of life's mysteries. I'll admit (and he knows this) that when I started hanging out with him, I thought some of his habits and beliefs were strange. But he is happy and helpful, and I am drawn to his company and conversation.

He is humble and steadfast. I have never once felt ashamed or condemned by my lack of spiritual education or discipline. He spurs me on toward following in the way of Jesus, sets a great example, admits he's not perfect, and patiently journeys with me as a friend. It is good for me to be around him. I learn. I grow. I'm equipped and inspired to make good choices. When I have a question about faith, he is my go-to guy. He knows me and offers sound advice ... like read your Bible and pray:)

"Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. News about Jesus spread all over . . . and people brought to Him all who were suffering and He healed them." 

1 Peter 1:22

Matthew 5:16

Matthew 4:24

Hat Trick

When I was a homeschooling mom heavily involved in volunteer work and raising babies, it was a challenge to keep everything going. Philip would come home after being gone for 9 or 10 hrs and things looked a whole lot like they did when he left.

My responsibilities were streamlined toward my husband and myself. If we had a super engaging day of learning but I didn't get around to the laundry, inevitably the laundry is what Philip verbally noticed when he came home. Or if I cooked ahead for the week all day long and let the kids play outside and/or help with the laundry, he would innocently ask to see the kids' schoolwork. 

I wore so many hats there was just no way to know.

Eventually, I learned to greet him at the door with a bit of an attendance report. "Hi! The maid worked all morning, the tutor was here all day, the children's choir director popped in during nap time, but the cook never showed up, so we're having frozen pizza." 

That lifestyle was HARD, and I LOVED it. I managed and educated and organized and enjoyed and provided and abided. Some of my favorite verbs.

Now that I work outside our home, and still volunteer while outsourcing most of the formal education, it is hard to keep everything going. I come home after being gone 10 or 11 hours and everything looks about like it did when I left.

I have responsibilities popping in from every direction. Am I on time? Are my kids on time? Do I have good ideas? Do I have my lunch? Do the kids have their homework? Is.it.signed.for.the.love. What about meals? And hygiene? And emotions? Everybody's flipping emotions. Oh, and the dog bless him.

This lifestyle is hard, and there are parts of it that I REALLY love. But I am not great at all the things all the time, and that feels yucky.

So this is me greeting you at the door of my life saying, "Hi. The laundry girl is killing it. The Alumni lady is basically on her game. Meal prep momma is adorable. The girl who walks & drinks water & reads her Bible is showing UP,  y'all. But the housecleaner and homework facilitator are friggin AWOL."

Also, you know what sounds good right now? To pile up all these hats and ask God for grace and a good night's sleep.

 

Aroma Therapy

One time, when the kids all lived at home, we noticed a distinct unpleasantness in our garage.

It began as an odd odor, and progressed into a full blown muggy funk. For a few days we left the garage door open, but as the stench lingered, my family simply altered its traffic pattern toward the patio. Avoidance of this unknown source was not a suitable long-term solution.

"We must figure out what stinks so badly!" I implored.
Responses ranged from, "It's gross," to "I don't know what it is; I can't help."
One little darling admitted, "It smells like somethin' dead. I'm scared."

"Well, it's not getting any better!" I pleaded with the mass of denial. We had looked in all the usual places: it was not a shoe or a cooler or a baseball bag. So what and where was it?

Finally, we decided to draw straws to choose an investigator. Since my oldest son's sense of smell had been numbed by years of dirty socks and body functions, he received the honorary short straw. 

We wished him well as he paused at the laundry room door, then we watched as our courageous, selfless firstborn headed out to solve this repulsive mystery. (It should be noted that his courage and perceived selflessness may have emerged from my "no meals 'til we figure this out" ultimatum. Who can know for sure?)

After quite a while, he came in and walked directly to the kitchen sink where he washed his hands FAR longer than he typically does. As my blue-eyed teen somberly dried his hands with a towel, the family gathered, hoping to hear of his discoveries.

In his preciously thick, East Texan drawl, he began to speak.

"Umm. You guys remember last week when Mom asked me to bring in a milk from the deep freeze? Well . . . ummm, the milk was behind . . . So, like a month ago, you guys remember . . . I don't know if I told y'all that I caught a monster bass over in Mr. Bobby's pond. Anyway, I thought about getting it mounted, so I wrapped it in a plastic bag and stuck it in the freezer. So, like . . . I guess I set it in front of the milk. And when Mom wanted the milk the other day, I had to set the fish on top of the fridge to dig out the milk because . . . you guys know how ice sorta builds up around things in the freezer?"

Each member of the family stood still and stared in wide-eyed amazement as he spoke. Some seemed satisfied by the poetic justice of his coincidental short straw and guilty status. Others were distracted by his unorthodox manner of story-telling which exhibited a complete lack of chronological coherence. We raised our eyebrows and collectively leaned in closer,  prompting him to finish his narrative quickly and happily.

"So . . . I guess I got the milk, and brought it in. But I guess I totally forgot about the fish. But . . . uh . . . I don't think I can get it mounted now, so I just took it out and buried it by the back fence. It had gotten juice all on top of the freezer too, so I cleaned that up with some paper towels and threw them away. It still kinda stinks out there, though. I should probably get some Lysol or somethin', but it's all good. Are the Rangers winning?"

***

Often, I perceive a distinct unpleasantness in my life. Its lingering funkiness indicates an unknown source beyond the usual challenges of everyday life.

I try to air it out. I try to ignore it. But ultimately, I resolve to seek out and eliminate the source of ugliness. The process of sin-search is not fun. I have to be brave. Deep down I know there is no hope of nourishment or growth until I deal with the mess.

As I retrace my steps, I find an unforgiven wound - though once carefully preserved, it is now exposed and rotting - affecting my environment in the most undesirable way. Once God leads me to the source of my pain, He patiently walks with me as I deal with it properly. Not by concealing it in plastic, frozen in time and space, but by burying it deep within the humble, loosened soil of my life. It will die away and become the richness of fertile ground.

And the Father begins a new thing in me.
Seeds of grace
firmly planted,
nestled in the compost of sorrow turned to joy,
watered by the Word,
warmed by the presence of the Son,
and strengthened by the wind of the Spirit,
eventually burst forth into fragrant flowers and fresh fruit.

"Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord." - Lamentations 3:40

"Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up." - James 4:10

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." - 1 John 1:9

"Be gentle and ready to forgive; never hold grudges. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others." - Colossians 3:13

"There was a time when I wouldn't admit what a sinner I was. But my dishonesty made me miserable and filled my days with frustration ... My strength evaporated like water on a sunny day until I finally admitted all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide them. I said to myself, 'I will confess them to the Lord.' And you forgave me! All my guilt is gone." - Psalm 32:3-5

"Happy are those whose greatest desire is to do what God requires." - Matthew 5:6