Lying in my sister's bed half asleep, I listen to the irregular lullaby of the constant hum of my home. Mom giving directions, the click of my sister's fingers on the keyboard doing her NaNoWriMo story, my little siblings bantering, clacking chairs and the whining sweeper in preparation for the invasion of more people later, my dad clearing his throat, 101.3 The River providing the background Christmas music.
The past two days I was at home in the evening for the first time in weeks. Between school and work, only weekends have found me home in the evening. Every time I find myself home all day, I realize I forgot how much I love being home, with nothing else to do.
I delight in things that just happen as a course of life at my house. My other sister coming in, counting, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, trying to figure out if we have enough chairs. As usual, we don't. Isn't that a happy thought?
From downstairs, I hear snatches of conversation like my little brother saying he wasn't something, and Dad replying, "My engineering son." My little brother whose feet have officially well surpassed everyone else's like his big brother before him (except for his, of course), who will too soon surpass me in height.
My littlest brother comes in to ask Amy if she wants to hear the parody of a Christmas song he and Melody made up: "Snippy, snippy, snippy, let me cut off all your hair; snippy, snippy, snippy, until none of it is there!"
These are the sorts of things I am thinking about this year as I write my traditional yearly Thanksgiving Day post.
We sang seven songs at church on Sunday, several more than usual. My awesome brother-in-law pointed this out to me, and as we sang some delightful songs, such as Awake, Awake, I looked around at my family.
Family was the word that came to mind as I drank in the moment of us all singing together, the song leaders playing, the children filling up the aisle for the special Thanksgiving offering. I noticed one of the little Speweik children crawling the wrong direction down the aisle as his brother tries to get him to get up, the seven little dark-haired brothers in a close line, each clutching his little Ziploc bag of coins, an energetic friend of mine raising his hands, bouncing, and closing his eyes as he belts out the song. I looked down the aisle Stephen and I chose to sit in at my literal family, everyone there, with Eric and Ruthie an aisle or two ahead, and impressed the scene in my mind.
I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for my new subset of family, my in-laws which are the best siblings-in-law I could possibly imagine. I am thankful that for all 22 years of my life I have never been without my family.
Changes make you think about things that have been which you may never have appreciated before. I realized that I have taken having my family for granted. That not everyone and not forever does one have all their family with them. My younger siblings will not.
And I am thankful for how God has blessed me.
This year what I have been in awe about is how God delights in us. He does not need us or our works. Our constant failing does not make Him love us less. He never loved us for what we could do for Him. When I sin over and over again in the same way, when I forget Him, when I am half-hearted about the One who loves me with an unfailing love, who bought me and keeps me, He does not let me go. He does not give up--even when I do, though He has never given me any reason to.
With that as your background, your foundation, your peace, how can one not be filled with joy? And joy and thankfulness are inextricably entangled.
So because I love doing it, a random list of things I am thankful for.
Christmas is less than a month away!
My siblings are coming over today.
I am much better at my job than I used to be.
My manager and coworkers
Music (although there is precious little Thanksgiving music...)
My friends from Cru
Snow!
Christmas gives an excuse for getting people presents.
My sign language class
My new laptop
The newly discovered ease of finding music on Spotify and finding songs I had forgotten about for years
The ease of communication via technology
Having a phone
Christmas trees
Applesauce
Inside jokes
Scripture
Have I mentioned my family?
Traditions like Grandma's scotcheroos, playing games, and looking at Black Friday ads
There are some randomish bits. I could go on forever.
Being thankful for things makes me wonder, though. Can you be really thankful for something if you take it for granted? If you don't appreciate the time you have to use it?
That's one reason I am thankful for writing. It makes me think about things and convicts me.
What about you? What are you delighting in this Thanksgiving?
Showing posts with label thankfulness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thankfulness. Show all posts
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Rejoicing in Blessings
Holidays, especially Thanksgiving, are wonderful times for considering where you are in your life. And convenient excuses to write blog posts! So this Thanksgiving I am doing both.
One thought has really impressed me: I am blessed.
I would fall into the cliche, "I don't know about you, but I am blessed," except I do know. You are blessed as well.
While writing, I said once that I must be content with God's love. Then I had to laugh. Content with God's love? As if someone dying of thirst must be content with oceans of water! Here we sit on the beach of a fresh-water Atlantic, picking at the grains of sand and considering attempting to quench our thirst from this muddy puddle beside us, totally unaware of the OCEAN at our feet!
What has this to do with thanksgiving?
If you realize what God has done for you, how can you not only not be displeased, and not only be satisfied, but further REJOICE in where He has you? And not only what He has done, but what He plans to do.
I have been struggling to wrap my prideful mind around such amazing promises:
Let me explain what I mean by prideful. Ought we not to accept all that the Lord tells us? And yet, seeing our sin, we do not accept His love. How can He do this, when we are so unworthy? Of course, as good Christians, we would never say this. (I wonder how many times that sentence has been written...) But we believe it.
One thought has really impressed me: I am blessed.
I would fall into the cliche, "I don't know about you, but I am blessed," except I do know. You are blessed as well.
While writing, I said once that I must be content with God's love. Then I had to laugh. Content with God's love? As if someone dying of thirst must be content with oceans of water! Here we sit on the beach of a fresh-water Atlantic, picking at the grains of sand and considering attempting to quench our thirst from this muddy puddle beside us, totally unaware of the OCEAN at our feet!
What has this to do with thanksgiving?
If you realize what God has done for you, how can you not only not be displeased, and not only be satisfied, but further REJOICE in where He has you? And not only what He has done, but what He plans to do.
I have been struggling to wrap my prideful mind around such amazing promises:
"Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place,
No evil shall befall you,
Nor any plague come near your dwelling...
Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him on high, because he has known My name."
- Psalm 91:9-10, 14
"I am the LORD your God,
Who brought you out of the land of Egypt;
Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it."
- Psalm 81:10
"If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!"These are only a few verses this idea has struck me in. (I recommend reading all of Psalm 91. And there's a link for those too lazy to look it up, so you have no excuse not to!)
-Matthew 7:11
Let me explain what I mean by prideful. Ought we not to accept all that the Lord tells us? And yet, seeing our sin, we do not accept His love. How can He do this, when we are so unworthy? Of course, as good Christians, we would never say this. (I wonder how many times that sentence has been written...) But we believe it.
I could say that I am speaking for myself here, and I don't know about you. But I think that is overused. Yes, I am speaking for myself, and yes, not everyone has the same thoughts. But "no temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man," and pride and resisting God's Word is a struggle we all encounter.
Now what does this have to do with being thankful?
It is good to see our sin and unworthiness. This realization is something that is essential for thankfulness. If you think that you deserve what God gives you, why should you be grateful? But if you do not deserve any good, how can you not be grateful for everything?
(Because you're sinful and prideful...but you get my point. That's another phrase that I wonder how often it's been used.)
And if your sin does not grieve your heart, pray that the Lord would open your eyes to it. He is faithful to answer. "You do not have, because you do not ask." The Lord did this for me. It is hard and not fun, and you may be surprised by the trials that come, but it will give you joy.
Realizing our sin does give us thankfulness. See on the one side your sin, and on the other God's blessings to you and His desire to bless you, and your thankfulness will be great. It puts everything into perspective.
God has been teaching me to rejoice in my own life. He knows each person, and He works in each life differently. Sometimes this is hard, because we cannot read hearts as God can. Thus, the grass is always greener on the other side. We see others' blessings that we do not have, and we are envious, forgetting their trials and the blessings we have that they do not.
God has been teaching me to rejoice in my own life. He knows each person, and He works in each life differently. Sometimes this is hard, because we cannot read hearts as God can. Thus, the grass is always greener on the other side. We see others' blessings that we do not have, and we are envious, forgetting their trials and the blessings we have that they do not.
And if we do see our blessings, we forget that's what they are and are prideful.
Recently after I had shared some things that God had been teaching me, a lady told me that she appreciated it. "You should be a teacher," she said. "Kids need to hear what you have to say."
It made me think of a time when Abraham had been brought up, and a girl asked if he was the one who had to sacrifice his son. It boggled my mind that a Christian could not know that story. Since then, I have been aware of how much I have been given. Indeed, what do I have that I have not been given? What separates me from a young believer who knows little more than Jesus and Noah's Ark?
Just this: where God has chosen to place me.
I have not been more faithful, nor do I have a better memory or understanding. I have simply been situated in places where knowing God's Word was expected, and so I reaped the benefits.
At one of these places, the teacher asked, "What is your geneology?" He asked us to consider our spiritual genealogies. Who prayed for you? Who taught you? And don't stop there. Who prayed for them? Who mentored them?
What an incredible thought. You begin to see yourself as a small mechanism in a huge, interconnecting plan. I think of things such as the debt I owe to a lady I never knew who many years ago did a Kid's Club that was instrumental in bringing God's word to a woman who has been an inestimable blessing to my mother, and to me. Of people, some of whom I may have never met, whose influence led people to come to my church and thus became a blessing to me. Of the great men and women throughout history who wrote down so powerfully what God taught them so that lives were transformed to become my examples.
You have your own blessings. That Christ died is blessing enough. But God has freely with Him given us all things!
On second thought, there is another thing that separates me from some believers. I love God's Word and I long for holiness. My struggle to overcome sin grieves me. This is one of the greatest blessings God can give.
I knew that Scripture says that work in the heart is from God, but I didn't quite understand how that could be. I mean, it's my heart, my desires and thoughts. Yes, God has to bring to life someone dead in sin, but the sanctifying work seems like it must be ours. Once again, as a good Christian, I knew such thinking was wrong and never would have thought I believed it.
Remember how I mentioned that God had opened my eyes to my sin? One year, I realized my walk with God wasn't very good. I wanted it to be better-sort of. I tried and tried to be good, but I couldn't. Really, I wanted to want it. I read in the Psalms how David thirsted after God's Word, how he hated his sin and God's enemies, how he delighted in righteousness. "Lord," I said, "I want a love for You like that. I don't even want Your Word. I don't even hate my sin." And I realized I couldn't work it up and asked Him to give it to me.
About a year later I was struggling and frustrated. Why, I wondered, could I not defeat sin? Why were things difficult? A friend encouraged me at that time, not really knowing what I was thinking, saying how she rejoiced seeing God's work in my life, in my love for Him and His people. Suddenly I realized: this frustration with sin-that was because I hated it. It wasn't because I was any more sinful than I used to be, but that I could now see my sin as the offense it was against God.
I had tried and tried to become more holy, and I had failed. Yet suddenly I realized I had changed-without doing anything. What glory! I rejoiced in verses like, "He who began a good work in you is faithful to complete it," and "He has given you all things needed for life and godliness through the knowledge of Him." I could see how it was completely God's work, changing my heart. I really had done nothing. God had just given me a receptive heart.
On second thought, there is another thing that separates me from some believers. I love God's Word and I long for holiness. My struggle to overcome sin grieves me. This is one of the greatest blessings God can give.
I knew that Scripture says that work in the heart is from God, but I didn't quite understand how that could be. I mean, it's my heart, my desires and thoughts. Yes, God has to bring to life someone dead in sin, but the sanctifying work seems like it must be ours. Once again, as a good Christian, I knew such thinking was wrong and never would have thought I believed it.
Remember how I mentioned that God had opened my eyes to my sin? One year, I realized my walk with God wasn't very good. I wanted it to be better-sort of. I tried and tried to be good, but I couldn't. Really, I wanted to want it. I read in the Psalms how David thirsted after God's Word, how he hated his sin and God's enemies, how he delighted in righteousness. "Lord," I said, "I want a love for You like that. I don't even want Your Word. I don't even hate my sin." And I realized I couldn't work it up and asked Him to give it to me.
About a year later I was struggling and frustrated. Why, I wondered, could I not defeat sin? Why were things difficult? A friend encouraged me at that time, not really knowing what I was thinking, saying how she rejoiced seeing God's work in my life, in my love for Him and His people. Suddenly I realized: this frustration with sin-that was because I hated it. It wasn't because I was any more sinful than I used to be, but that I could now see my sin as the offense it was against God.
I had tried and tried to become more holy, and I had failed. Yet suddenly I realized I had changed-without doing anything. What glory! I rejoiced in verses like, "He who began a good work in you is faithful to complete it," and "He has given you all things needed for life and godliness through the knowledge of Him." I could see how it was completely God's work, changing my heart. I really had done nothing. God had just given me a receptive heart.
Don't diminish God's glory by not acknowledging what He has given you. It is the humble person who is thankful, because they realize that no matter how "good" in the eyes of others they may be, every good gift comes from God. Do not fail to rejoice in His promises of blessing to you. If we trust His character, we must believe them. It is precisely because we are unworthy that we can be so grateful.
I do speak to myself, and as usual, write for my own benefit. But I do pray that as you read how I have been impressed by God's mercy, it will also cause you to rejoice in thankfulness.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Searched and Known
O LORD, You have searched me--
I've memorized the passage, and this time expected to read through it quickly. But that was as far as I got.
O LORD, You have searched me--
I thought I would focus more on the next line, the part I had been thinking about: "and known me." But my eyes wouldn't go past these words. I tried to go on, but they stopped.
O LORD, You have searched me--
I can't even imagine how many times I have read or heard that line. But I don't think I ever really thought about that before. I've always kind of lumped it together with "and known me." But it says, You have searched me.
Have you ever considered that the Lord searched you?
I don't know if that's an important distinction, but it struck me. Of course, God knows all things, so His searching out isn't quite the same as ours. But even speaking of Him as searching you out is kind of mind-boggling. Not that He just knows, but that He puts effort into it. I thought of it as when you have a dear friend and you observe her, note her responses, remember what she likes and does not, listen to what she says, draw out her ideas, because you seek to know and understand her and how she thinks. Why? Because you delight in her, care about her, want to know what to do to please and encourage her.
And God did this for us?
I was going to read Psalm 139 because I was rejoicing and in awe of God's care for me-that God, God the Creator, the Lord of the universe, understands me better than I do myself, that He "knows my thoughts afar off." Now even more the thought arrested me: He knows me, not on accident, not because He is God so He has to know everything, but because He has searched me, because He cares for me, because He chose to.
We tend to diminish everything about God. Naturally, for we cannot comprehend how much bigger He is. And naturally because, everyone is naturally afraid of what he does not know, of things he cannot control, of things that are different than what he is used to. So we diminish His glory, His perfection, His judgement, His sovereignty, and His love.
It makes sense, without the wisdom that is from above.
I mean, who, if they really knew you, completely, fully, with all your faults and hidden sins, could really love you? Maybe a man could, knowing the sin in his own life. But God? Perfection, loving me? And not because, y'know, it's that family member you really ought to know and love; they're family, after all; but if it weren't for that, you'd never try. No, but He chose and searched me out - me, a creature that He formed - discovered all my faults, faults that no one else knows, and loves me still.
Such love is humbling. It reminds me of a quote I love from Aslan: "That is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content."
God's love is so abundant. I mean, sending Jesus to die for us, propitiation so we don't have to go to hell, and caring for our needs is way more than we deserve. And that would be enough to boggle our minds: a holy God sacrificing to save sinners, providing for their needs.
But God isn't paying child support. He is a true Father. The best sort of father who understands His child in such a way that He knows him, what he will do and what he needs, better than His child does. He is "acquainted with all my ways." He has searched out His child.
Pretty awesome, isn't it?
"Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain it."
I've memorized the passage, and this time expected to read through it quickly. But that was as far as I got.
O LORD, You have searched me--
I thought I would focus more on the next line, the part I had been thinking about: "and known me." But my eyes wouldn't go past these words. I tried to go on, but they stopped.
O LORD, You have searched me--
I can't even imagine how many times I have read or heard that line. But I don't think I ever really thought about that before. I've always kind of lumped it together with "and known me." But it says, You have searched me.
Have you ever considered that the Lord searched you?
I don't know if that's an important distinction, but it struck me. Of course, God knows all things, so His searching out isn't quite the same as ours. But even speaking of Him as searching you out is kind of mind-boggling. Not that He just knows, but that He puts effort into it. I thought of it as when you have a dear friend and you observe her, note her responses, remember what she likes and does not, listen to what she says, draw out her ideas, because you seek to know and understand her and how she thinks. Why? Because you delight in her, care about her, want to know what to do to please and encourage her.
And God did this for us?
I was going to read Psalm 139 because I was rejoicing and in awe of God's care for me-that God, God the Creator, the Lord of the universe, understands me better than I do myself, that He "knows my thoughts afar off." Now even more the thought arrested me: He knows me, not on accident, not because He is God so He has to know everything, but because He has searched me, because He cares for me, because He chose to.
We tend to diminish everything about God. Naturally, for we cannot comprehend how much bigger He is. And naturally because, everyone is naturally afraid of what he does not know, of things he cannot control, of things that are different than what he is used to. So we diminish His glory, His perfection, His judgement, His sovereignty, and His love.
It makes sense, without the wisdom that is from above.
I mean, who, if they really knew you, completely, fully, with all your faults and hidden sins, could really love you? Maybe a man could, knowing the sin in his own life. But God? Perfection, loving me? And not because, y'know, it's that family member you really ought to know and love; they're family, after all; but if it weren't for that, you'd never try. No, but He chose and searched me out - me, a creature that He formed - discovered all my faults, faults that no one else knows, and loves me still.
Such love is humbling. It reminds me of a quote I love from Aslan: "That is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content."
God's love is so abundant. I mean, sending Jesus to die for us, propitiation so we don't have to go to hell, and caring for our needs is way more than we deserve. And that would be enough to boggle our minds: a holy God sacrificing to save sinners, providing for their needs.
But God isn't paying child support. He is a true Father. The best sort of father who understands His child in such a way that He knows him, what he will do and what he needs, better than His child does. He is "acquainted with all my ways." He has searched out His child.
Pretty awesome, isn't it?
"Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain it."
Monday, December 31, 2012
Faithful in Past and Future
Today is the last day of 2012. That's a crazy thought.Perhaps a few of you have read my blog and realized I am quoting myself. The first line actually originally read "Today is the last day of 2011."
Where were you twelve months ago? Isn't that an interesting thought to ponder? And I don't mean physically only, of course. Emotionally, spiritually, in your relationships, in your thoughts...where were you?
It's amazing how quickly we forget. Things that I thought at the time I'd never forget are now like a dream in the morning-as it hovers in the back of your mind, you can almost recall it, but not quite.
The past year has been full, it seems, with lots of change. I suppose that's always true, and perhaps every year it seems more true than before-again, how quickly we forget. I wonder how many times I have remarked, "That seems like a really long time ago," about something that happened this year. Things as close as September seem long ago. Hey, things as close as the beginning of this month...
Which makes written records fun and interesting.
Quoting yourself, or hearing others quote you, is an odd experience. It has happened a few times to me this year. It's quite interesting and rather strange.
But that has nothing to do with this post.
Like I said last year, it's remarkable how quickly we forget. I could write the exact same thing I wrote last year and it would be true. Which makes written records fun and interesting.
And challenging. I began this year, and other times throughout the year-indeed, last year as well-with so many good intentions. Yet I failed so much. It is disheartening, yet a happy thought to know that the only way I have changed or endured in any good thing has been the power of Christ overruling my natural tendency to revert to lazy indulgence, selfish self-love, forgetful ignorance.
This has been a year of growth, a year of many new experiences, both very good and very difficult, a year of new and deepening relationships. From simple growing up things like driving a few times, getting a bank account, taking the ACT; to Something to Smile About, to college, to the beginning of the answering of my prayers last year for a deeper love for the Lord, though I have begun to realize how unworthy I am, I have found the Lord faithful. I have been blessed in too many things to name in friendships, finances, schooling, family, possessions, wisdom, opportunities.
So many things I am beginning to understand that never quite made sense before. Things that adults say I begin to understand for myself.
I don't like it when people say generic things like that when you know they have something specific in mind, so I shall elaborate. That is one of the things I have come to understand better: having things that you don't really want to share all of the details. So often I wish people would just say it, because I am curious-I am a Beerbower after all, and I want to know. But having been on the other side, I understand better. Sometimes you want to say it, but it really is wiser not to.
Which relates to another thing I've begun understand. I see myself doing the same things that annoyed me in adults, things that confused me, like why someone would bother to swim for just a few minutes, or prefer watching the running around to joining in, not wanting to even get up from his seat. Things like not having enough time to write an email, even though few people take as long as I do, disliking the snow, or wanting to drive in it, or finding preparing for something a big deal. Many things, like church functions or having people over or taking pictures or getting presents, take a lot more work than you realize until you really see the behind the scenes and consider them.
I have found myself questioning. Questioning what I believe, and why. Questioning what I do, and why I do it. It has been a good experience, for questions are the way you learn. I have been challenged to believe things, not because that is what those around me have believed, or because I have reasoned it out, but because the Word of God says it.
It has been especially sweet this year to see the answering of prayers. As I struggled with certain things, I felt discouraged, and then I realized: God was answering my prayers.
I struggled with frustration over my sinfulness. Suddenly, I remembered last year, asking for a greater desire for holiness, a stronger hatred for sin, and a deeper love for the Lord. He was honoring those prayers!
I struggled with difficulties in friendships and drama, which was difficult because I could not remember having done that before. Yet God uses perseverance through difficulties to give us wisdom, something I have asked the Lord for many times.
I had struggled with my grandfather's death, and, though loss surprises us even after we thought it has gone so that I will probably have to deal with it again, He brought resolution and peace to my mind.
Last year I asked God to bless me with a mentor. This year, I have benefited from the wisdom and friendship of many older girls-and even some younger than I, yet whose fellowship and example have encouraged and challenged me. The blessing of God's people is amazing.
Considering the year ahead, I am excited to see how God will work. He has given me the desire for wisdom and holiness, for joy and satisfaction, to be useful and encouraging, to bring Him glory, and though I cannot obtain those things on my own, He promises that those who ask receive, and those who seek find. Though I know that my idea of how it will go may be very different than what actually happens, and that many times I will fail in the visions I now have for the walk ahead of me, I smile at the future, knowing that God is faithful.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Thoughts of Faith and Thanks
Last Thursday I spent four hours in between classes at the University of Toledo with the college group, standing for the unborn. We had big signs with pictures of abortions and fliers for Created Equal, the organization we work with. We claimed a cross section of Centennial Mall's sidewalks and tried to engage the passersby, challenging their thoughts about abortion.
It is no coincidence that I am posting this on Thanksgiving. I came away from that event with a sense of gratefulness.
Though I have heard a number of presentations on abortion, this was the first time I had done this. As with many things, I wasn't nervous until I got there and I realized what it would be like.
We didn't get into a conversation for a while, but when we did, I forgot to be nervous at all. I didn't have a large number of conversations, but I had a few that were quite long. The first guy was a legal sort of guy. He argued that we shouldn't worry about abortion until we can take care of the kids, and didn't think the legislation could be changed. Another guy said that it wasn't murder to kill someone if they didn't have brain waves, and that they could measure them.
Those type of intellectual people I find harder to relate to and have any sympathy for than people like the girl who didn't really like abortion, but having many friends in the foster care system, she didn't want more children to grow up without a loving home. Thinking of the kids I know who could be in such a situation, I sympathized with her. "It is hard," I agreed, "yet who are we to use the quality of life a child will have as an excuse to kill? A child who is dearly wanted may, after some misfortune, end up in child services, and a child who is not may have a wonderful life in an adoptive family. We don't know." She said she would think about it.
The most interesting conversation I had was with a guy who at said first that we were 19th century and needed to progress. But as I talked with him, he genuinely seemed to want to understand. He didn't like abortion himself, he said, but he thought that everyone should make their own decision. I asked him about killing other people, and he asked me what I thought about killing animals. I asked him what he thought of God. He said that he thought God was in everything. I told him what I believed (which meant that I thought animals should be treated well, but that humans have much more worth) and told him that, while I was glad he thought murder was wrong, in his worldview, it didn't make sense for him to do so. If we evolved, who's to say that killing someone is wrong? He said a couple times, "You seem to be making sense. I don't know. Maybe you are right." He also said he would think about it.
The last conversation I had was with a girl who said abortion wasn't wrong in the first trimester. She pointed to the picture of the baby at 13 weeks old, and agreed that it was definitely a baby and killing it would be wrong. But she thought that until later, when they have arms and legs they are not a baby. She pointed to the picture of a sperm and egg. "That's not a baby." She said she was a Christian, she goes to church, and she was emphatic that the Bible was the Word of God, completely true.
So I referred to Psalm 139, how God knows us before we are formed in the womb, and how in Leviticus it treats causing a pregnant woman to lose her baby as murder. She said that God knows that they were going to have an abortion and He forgives us. I agreed that God forgives us so much, so generously, but if we accept that Jesus died to forgive our sins, how can we knowingly sin? If He must forgive us, that means that it was wrong, and He calls us to holiness. If we love Him, we must not sin.
She had to go to class, but she said I was interesting to talk to and she would consider what I had said.
What I was left to consider as it ended were mainly two things.
First, the impression I had was sorrow. Sorrow over the complacency. The people who didn't want to talk, and said they had never considered abortion. "Have you thought much about abortion?" we would ask. "No," would often be followed by, "I've never been in that situation." Sorrow over the angry reactions. After an older lady was asked what she thought of abortion, she said, "I don't have an opinion, but-" and her voice rose high and angrily and she got into our faces- "I don't think people should PUSH their views on others!!" It was sort of shocking; we felt that an older lady should agree with us. "I wondered if she had grandkids," my friend asked. "I feel like anyone with grandkids should be against abortion."
That feeling of sadness influenced that other feeling that still comes when I consider that day. The feeling of gratitude.
Time and time again, at some point in every conversation, I felt I could say no more than, "I believe that God created the world, and made humans in His image, which means that murder is wrong. The Bible says it, so it's true." And I sometimes did. But they don't believe Scripture is true, and frustratingly I realized I could not convince them. No evidence against abortion, no testifying of the inerrancy of Scripture will change their minds.
That keeps returning to my mind. Dead in your sins. Suddenly I understood that phrase in a way I never had before. Of course I knew we were dead in our sins, we needed Jesus to make us alive. But now I could see: we are dead. We cannot believe. "Though one were to rise from the dead" we would still not believe.
"And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins... But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ" (Ephesians 2).
I knew that we were dead and had no desire to live. But being impressed with how we cannot accept the truth of the gospel; imagining others' thoughts and seeing the gospel's foolishness to the world; finding that much as I wanted to, I could not convince them of the truth because the prince of this world has darkened their eyes; the greatness of the gift and how it is such a gift became more clear. I have not relayed these things very eloquently, but the distinction between how I knew that before and how I realized its truth afterwards is something that, like faith, you cannot understand unless you have experienced it.
What do I have what these people do not? They are presented with the same information as I; why do I accept it and they do not? I can reason, but I cannot prove. My beliefs are based on the evidence of faith. Why do I have faith in what they reject? How can I accept what I do not completely understand? Why, when I, as I have lately, question whether almost everything I know is true and why, do I choose not to reject what I cannot prove?
It is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. The peace given by the Holy Spirit. Faith, which cannot be worked up. You cannot be reasoned into heaven. Faith is a gift. And I am humbled and thankful for it like never before, realizing it is unearned and not to be taken for granted.
Salvation is miracle upon miracle. Not only must God the Creator die for the sinful creation, but the dead creature must have his eyes opened to even believe that he has been saved. Such grace is beyond belief, and to know that He has revealed the truth of His Word to you compels the giving of thanks.
It is no coincidence that I am posting this on Thanksgiving. I came away from that event with a sense of gratefulness.
Though I have heard a number of presentations on abortion, this was the first time I had done this. As with many things, I wasn't nervous until I got there and I realized what it would be like.
We didn't get into a conversation for a while, but when we did, I forgot to be nervous at all. I didn't have a large number of conversations, but I had a few that were quite long. The first guy was a legal sort of guy. He argued that we shouldn't worry about abortion until we can take care of the kids, and didn't think the legislation could be changed. Another guy said that it wasn't murder to kill someone if they didn't have brain waves, and that they could measure them.
Those type of intellectual people I find harder to relate to and have any sympathy for than people like the girl who didn't really like abortion, but having many friends in the foster care system, she didn't want more children to grow up without a loving home. Thinking of the kids I know who could be in such a situation, I sympathized with her. "It is hard," I agreed, "yet who are we to use the quality of life a child will have as an excuse to kill? A child who is dearly wanted may, after some misfortune, end up in child services, and a child who is not may have a wonderful life in an adoptive family. We don't know." She said she would think about it.
The most interesting conversation I had was with a guy who at said first that we were 19th century and needed to progress. But as I talked with him, he genuinely seemed to want to understand. He didn't like abortion himself, he said, but he thought that everyone should make their own decision. I asked him about killing other people, and he asked me what I thought about killing animals. I asked him what he thought of God. He said that he thought God was in everything. I told him what I believed (which meant that I thought animals should be treated well, but that humans have much more worth) and told him that, while I was glad he thought murder was wrong, in his worldview, it didn't make sense for him to do so. If we evolved, who's to say that killing someone is wrong? He said a couple times, "You seem to be making sense. I don't know. Maybe you are right." He also said he would think about it.
The last conversation I had was with a girl who said abortion wasn't wrong in the first trimester. She pointed to the picture of the baby at 13 weeks old, and agreed that it was definitely a baby and killing it would be wrong. But she thought that until later, when they have arms and legs they are not a baby. She pointed to the picture of a sperm and egg. "That's not a baby." She said she was a Christian, she goes to church, and she was emphatic that the Bible was the Word of God, completely true.
So I referred to Psalm 139, how God knows us before we are formed in the womb, and how in Leviticus it treats causing a pregnant woman to lose her baby as murder. She said that God knows that they were going to have an abortion and He forgives us. I agreed that God forgives us so much, so generously, but if we accept that Jesus died to forgive our sins, how can we knowingly sin? If He must forgive us, that means that it was wrong, and He calls us to holiness. If we love Him, we must not sin.
She had to go to class, but she said I was interesting to talk to and she would consider what I had said.
What I was left to consider as it ended were mainly two things.
First, the impression I had was sorrow. Sorrow over the complacency. The people who didn't want to talk, and said they had never considered abortion. "Have you thought much about abortion?" we would ask. "No," would often be followed by, "I've never been in that situation." Sorrow over the angry reactions. After an older lady was asked what she thought of abortion, she said, "I don't have an opinion, but-" and her voice rose high and angrily and she got into our faces- "I don't think people should PUSH their views on others!!" It was sort of shocking; we felt that an older lady should agree with us. "I wondered if she had grandkids," my friend asked. "I feel like anyone with grandkids should be against abortion."
That feeling of sadness influenced that other feeling that still comes when I consider that day. The feeling of gratitude.
Time and time again, at some point in every conversation, I felt I could say no more than, "I believe that God created the world, and made humans in His image, which means that murder is wrong. The Bible says it, so it's true." And I sometimes did. But they don't believe Scripture is true, and frustratingly I realized I could not convince them. No evidence against abortion, no testifying of the inerrancy of Scripture will change their minds.
dead in your sins
That keeps returning to my mind. Dead in your sins. Suddenly I understood that phrase in a way I never had before. Of course I knew we were dead in our sins, we needed Jesus to make us alive. But now I could see: we are dead. We cannot believe. "Though one were to rise from the dead" we would still not believe.
"And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins... But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ" (Ephesians 2).
I knew that we were dead and had no desire to live. But being impressed with how we cannot accept the truth of the gospel; imagining others' thoughts and seeing the gospel's foolishness to the world; finding that much as I wanted to, I could not convince them of the truth because the prince of this world has darkened their eyes; the greatness of the gift and how it is such a gift became more clear. I have not relayed these things very eloquently, but the distinction between how I knew that before and how I realized its truth afterwards is something that, like faith, you cannot understand unless you have experienced it.
What do I have what these people do not? They are presented with the same information as I; why do I accept it and they do not? I can reason, but I cannot prove. My beliefs are based on the evidence of faith. Why do I have faith in what they reject? How can I accept what I do not completely understand? Why, when I, as I have lately, question whether almost everything I know is true and why, do I choose not to reject what I cannot prove?
It is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. The peace given by the Holy Spirit. Faith, which cannot be worked up. You cannot be reasoned into heaven. Faith is a gift. And I am humbled and thankful for it like never before, realizing it is unearned and not to be taken for granted.
Salvation is miracle upon miracle. Not only must God the Creator die for the sinful creation, but the dead creature must have his eyes opened to even believe that he has been saved. Such grace is beyond belief, and to know that He has revealed the truth of His Word to you compels the giving of thanks.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Undeserved Love
Marriage is perhaps an odd topic for me to write on, as I obviously have zero experience. Nevertheless, it's something I've thought about rather deeply every so often for a while.
Two things you're doubtless thinking now aren't quite true. I have been thinking about marriage, but as a powerful picture-the ultimate marriage that earthly marriages are simply a reflection of-more than anything else. And while of course I can't think of marriage without Ryan and Grace entering my thoughts, mostly it's been unrelated to them-some was from before I really thought much about them getting married (but on a tangential note, I've seen them briefly and it is fun to see them married!).
Last year in studying James, I read Ezekiel 16. If you haven't read it recently, I encourage you to do so. It isn't the type of passage read in church or discussed very often. It is unpleasant, and-as struck me at that time-it is sad. After reading it and pondering and discussing the awfulness of unfaithfulness, my feelings were such that I must write something, yet in normal prose-I couldn't capture what I wanted to convey. The Ezekiel passage isn't poetry exactly, but the language is full of imagery. I tried to put everything into a poem. I wrote several in the attempt, none of which quite captured what I was trying to say. Several of them weren't really finished. I also couldn't think of good titles for them.
This one is the most directly related and probably the best.
Mrs. Smith hurried along;
She had lots of things to do.
A sudden, quiet voice stopped her tracks:
"Darling, can I see you?"
"No," she replied, resuming her trot.
"I'm too busy today.
Maybe later if I have time,"
and she hurried on her way.
Evening came, and the voice again,
"Have you any time now?"
She turned once more, and this time
Had a frown on her brow.
"Oh, you wanted to talk.
I haven't thought of you all day.
I suppose we can if you insist,
But I don't know what to say."
"Ridiculous!" we start to think,
Sensibilities offended,
"A marriage cannot last like that.
I'm surprised it hasn't ended.
For a wife to talk that way
Is really very sad,
And he must really be a saint
If her husband isn't mad."
Yet we do this to God
Each and every day
Continually ignoring Him,
As we go our adulterous way.
And if God disciplines
To draw us back to Him,
We think He is unjust,
That His love grows dim.
We do not understand
That His jealousy
Is not like Zeus' or Hermes',
It shows His love for me.
We do not understand
Like a husband He is grieved
When His beloved leaves Him
By false lovers deceived.
Yet He freely takes us back,
Like He has done before,
Though we don't even regret
That we have played the whore.
And when He shows His love,
We take it all in stride,
Like we were a perfect,
All-deserving bride.
I had intended to write a concluding verse, but I never did.
This one is from September.
Seated in glory unknown by man
The Son of God full of splendor
Surely nothing could happen to make Him
Inglorious rendered.
And then, this glory goes ungrasped.
He simply lets it go
How can this be? we wonder
For whom? we want to know.
Surely there's another god,
Or at least an upright King,
And for this awesome one a palace,
And a royal welcoming.
But for whom does He give it up?
Where is His new place?
It's a humble stable stall,
And for a sinful human race.
He no longer is attractive,
So He is despised.
Rejected by men, afflicted by God
Until the day He dies.
This one of perfection
Who deserved to have only gain
Died for an ungrateful me
One who deserves only shame.
Yet it pleased the Lord to do it
To offer Him for sin
The transgressions of His people
Were laid upon Him.
When I know the offering required
Can my flesh any more be gratified?
O Lord, see Thy soul's labor for me
And may You be satisfied.
This one is maybe my favorite, written mostly last fall.
They tell me that You love me,
That You'll save me from my sin
That when I feel alone You'll be there.
When I go through trials,
I can go to You, well assured
That my every burden You'll bear.
I do not understand
How can this be?
For they say that You're holy and just.
Yet I know my heart
How evil it is
Full of envies and murders and lust.
If a thousand times better
Human being were I
I still would be grieving my God.
Still would not deserve
The tiniest good
For He sees behind my facade.
But Your love is so awesome
It depends not upon me,
For I could not earn it at all.
Despite what I do
You still show Your love
And You hear me when I call.
Sometimes, reading and thinking, the weight of sin seems pressing, overwhelming. As I was considering this, a picture came to mind.
Imagine a wife who does not use her position, who does not treat the house, finances, possessions, of her husband as her own. She asks for permission like an outsider. She will not accept gifts from her husband. "I'm not worthy," she says.
She's right, of course. She doesn't deserve them-yet does that please her husband? How absurd! He will rather be grieved that she doesn't trust his love enough to, in a sense, take advantage of her position. He loves her; whether she deserves it or not is unimportant-it's only his love that matters. Does he want to give her something she has earned?
The spiritual applications of my little illustration are obvious, of course. Is God pleased when we are so weighed down by sin, realizing we're unworthy of any of His gifts? Of course that is necessary-but we must go beyond that.
I read Nehemiah 8 this week. Ezra the scribe reads to the people the Law of God. The people all weep. They have returned from the captivity, and the Law has been disregarded. What do Nehemiah and Ezra tell the people?
“This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn nor weep," for "the joy of the Lord is your strength."
They realized their guilt, they sought to obey, and then? "There was very great gladness." That we do not deserve God's love is what makes it so awesome.
"Now to the one who works, his wage is not credited as a favor, but as what is due. But to the one who does not work, but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness..."
If we deserved it, the glory and our gratefulness would be lost.
Those are some of my somewhat random thoughts. Hopefully they were encouraging to you.
Two things you're doubtless thinking now aren't quite true. I have been thinking about marriage, but as a powerful picture-the ultimate marriage that earthly marriages are simply a reflection of-more than anything else. And while of course I can't think of marriage without Ryan and Grace entering my thoughts, mostly it's been unrelated to them-some was from before I really thought much about them getting married (but on a tangential note, I've seen them briefly and it is fun to see them married!).
Last year in studying James, I read Ezekiel 16. If you haven't read it recently, I encourage you to do so. It isn't the type of passage read in church or discussed very often. It is unpleasant, and-as struck me at that time-it is sad. After reading it and pondering and discussing the awfulness of unfaithfulness, my feelings were such that I must write something, yet in normal prose-I couldn't capture what I wanted to convey. The Ezekiel passage isn't poetry exactly, but the language is full of imagery. I tried to put everything into a poem. I wrote several in the attempt, none of which quite captured what I was trying to say. Several of them weren't really finished. I also couldn't think of good titles for them.
This one is the most directly related and probably the best.
Mrs. Smith hurried along;
She had lots of things to do.
A sudden, quiet voice stopped her tracks:
"Darling, can I see you?"
"No," she replied, resuming her trot.
"I'm too busy today.
Maybe later if I have time,"
and she hurried on her way.
Evening came, and the voice again,
"Have you any time now?"
She turned once more, and this time
Had a frown on her brow.
"Oh, you wanted to talk.
I haven't thought of you all day.
I suppose we can if you insist,
But I don't know what to say."
"Ridiculous!" we start to think,
Sensibilities offended,
"A marriage cannot last like that.
I'm surprised it hasn't ended.
For a wife to talk that way
Is really very sad,
And he must really be a saint
If her husband isn't mad."
Yet we do this to God
Each and every day
Continually ignoring Him,
As we go our adulterous way.
And if God disciplines
To draw us back to Him,
We think He is unjust,
That His love grows dim.
We do not understand
That His jealousy
Is not like Zeus' or Hermes',
It shows His love for me.
We do not understand
Like a husband He is grieved
When His beloved leaves Him
By false lovers deceived.
Yet He freely takes us back,
Like He has done before,
Though we don't even regret
That we have played the whore.
And when He shows His love,
We take it all in stride,
Like we were a perfect,
All-deserving bride.
I had intended to write a concluding verse, but I never did.
This one is from September.
Seated in glory unknown by man
The Son of God full of splendor
Surely nothing could happen to make Him
Inglorious rendered.
And then, this glory goes ungrasped.
He simply lets it go
How can this be? we wonder
For whom? we want to know.
Surely there's another god,
Or at least an upright King,
And for this awesome one a palace,
And a royal welcoming.
But for whom does He give it up?
Where is His new place?
It's a humble stable stall,
And for a sinful human race.
He no longer is attractive,
So He is despised.
Rejected by men, afflicted by God
Until the day He dies.
This one of perfection
Who deserved to have only gain
Died for an ungrateful me
One who deserves only shame.
Yet it pleased the Lord to do it
To offer Him for sin
The transgressions of His people
Were laid upon Him.
When I know the offering required
Can my flesh any more be gratified?
O Lord, see Thy soul's labor for me
And may You be satisfied.
This one is maybe my favorite, written mostly last fall.
They tell me that You love me,
That You'll save me from my sin
That when I feel alone You'll be there.
When I go through trials,
I can go to You, well assured
That my every burden You'll bear.
I do not understand
How can this be?
For they say that You're holy and just.
Yet I know my heart
How evil it is
Full of envies and murders and lust.
If a thousand times better
Human being were I
I still would be grieving my God.
Still would not deserve
The tiniest good
For He sees behind my facade.
But Your love is so awesome
It depends not upon me,
For I could not earn it at all.
Despite what I do
You still show Your love
And You hear me when I call.
Sometimes, reading and thinking, the weight of sin seems pressing, overwhelming. As I was considering this, a picture came to mind.
Imagine a wife who does not use her position, who does not treat the house, finances, possessions, of her husband as her own. She asks for permission like an outsider. She will not accept gifts from her husband. "I'm not worthy," she says.
She's right, of course. She doesn't deserve them-yet does that please her husband? How absurd! He will rather be grieved that she doesn't trust his love enough to, in a sense, take advantage of her position. He loves her; whether she deserves it or not is unimportant-it's only his love that matters. Does he want to give her something she has earned?
The spiritual applications of my little illustration are obvious, of course. Is God pleased when we are so weighed down by sin, realizing we're unworthy of any of His gifts? Of course that is necessary-but we must go beyond that.
I read Nehemiah 8 this week. Ezra the scribe reads to the people the Law of God. The people all weep. They have returned from the captivity, and the Law has been disregarded. What do Nehemiah and Ezra tell the people?
“This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn nor weep," for "the joy of the Lord is your strength."
They realized their guilt, they sought to obey, and then? "There was very great gladness." That we do not deserve God's love is what makes it so awesome.
"Now to the one who works, his wage is not credited as a favor, but as what is due. But to the one who does not work, but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness..."
If we deserved it, the glory and our gratefulness would be lost.
Those are some of my somewhat random thoughts. Hopefully they were encouraging to you.
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