There are times when I've thought my testimony was a funny thing. Partly because, in terms of, "When did you give your life to Jesus," and when I "crossed from death to life", I don't really know. I remember when I was about 4, sitting on the little pink rug in my bedroom and talking to Jesus. My family didn't go to church before I was 12, so I don't even know how I knew His name. When I was about 8, my parents gave me a "children's Bible", which was really just a collection of Bible stories summarized into about 2 sentences a piece. I read that thing over and over and over again. After that I was a bit jealous of the kids who got to go to church -- I wanted to go to church too! Then about a month before my 12th birthday, my mom started taking us to church. My first Sunday school lesson was on the 10 Commandments, which I'd never heard before. I had recently started using bad language and stealing by switching price tags on items (something you couldn't even do now), but I stopped immediately after hearing the 10 Commandments -- I didn't realize that God had standards! A few months after that someone explained how Jesus died to pay the penalty for my sin, and if I accepted His payment, died to myself, and aligned my life with His, making Him Lord, He would wipe away all my rebellion against Him, mistakes, broken places, and make me a new creation and give me life. I was in. It was so easy. I always thought of it as easy as falling off a log.
When I was about 14, as teenagers do, I started getting into boy bands and felt insecure and uncertain and far from God. I felt like I was dying inside. But everyone at my church thought I was fine -- I was a "good Christian". I went to church and youth group every week. I knew all the answers to all the Bible questions. I was in the choir. What could have been wrong? But I knew better. I started going to another church where the people were under no illusion about my apparent perfection and goodness. But wow, they loved me.
My areas of failing have been "benign". I was part of a group of people who started talking about what "dirt bags" they were before Jesus. No one took me seriously as someone who needed salvation, as someone who deserved the death that Jesus died in my place. I didn't drink or smoke or have sex or do any of those "naughty" things that teenagers and young people do, and older people. To them, it almost seemed like my testimony was a joke. The good little girl who always did everything right. What did I know about needing salvation? In a crowd, I'm not the person anyone would call on to share their testimony. We want to hear the power testimony, of the person saved from drugs and alcohol or sex or gangs. The REAL transformed life. Not the "good" person who predictably gave her life to Jesus like the good girl she is. Who doesn't even know WHEN she sealed the deal.
Yet I find myself never being more thankful for such a testimony. But let me share the rest.
When I was about 19, I started going to a class in church called "Normal Christian Life". Sadly, as I've been around Christian circles for 20 years since then, I've found that what we talked about is not normal in current Christian life at all, but that's another story. One of the leaders, Linda, also started meeting with me weekly. You might say "discipling" me. In a way it was cool that she was meeting with me. But she also terrified me, and there were days I dreaded going to meet her. Honestly, it was a horrible few months. One day, I strongly considered skipping our appointment. (I told about this recently -- she said she just would have called me and tracked me down.) Not because she was mean or rude or judgmental or unloving. But because she had a way of putting her finger on things I wanted to hide -- things I even hid from myself. The deep, dark places that I wouldn't admit existed to myself or to God. Unfortunately, the things most Christians don't think are such a big deal.
All she did was ask me questions, based on what I knew of the Bible and the (very encouraging and helpful) teachings we were going through. And this is what I learned about myself: I was prideful (which includes insecurity) and selfish, thinking everything was all about me all the time. I decided others motivations (something only God knows). I was self-deceived and full of lies that I told myself and God. I thought I knew better than God, and that He didn't know what He was talking about -- He was wrong, I was right. When it came to my life and my world, I was on the throne, not Him. I decided the circumstances in which I would yield authority to Him. And I was horrifically unforgiving. I remember when I was younger actually thinking how forgiving I was -- how arrogant! I really just stuffed it and denied it let the poison of bitterness and resentment build. Through this process, I repented (changed my mind and my ways), and I forgave. And I completely understood what Paul meant when he said that he was the worst of all sinners. That's how I felt. There could be no one who could out-do me in the area of sin and failure. It didn't "look" bad, I knew that those looks were deceiving. I knew that the fact that I hadn't slept around or gotten into alcohol or drugs or anything else was just dumb luck and had nothing to do with any virtue within me. I was capable of it all.
I find that many people, including Christians, run from this. I get it: none of us likes facing the reality of our failure. And especially in this culture, the idea just doesn't fit. It's not "good for our self esteem". But this realization didn't make me feel the way people would imagine. It was more the opposite. Because God. Still. Loved. Me. I was the most horrible person to ever walk the earth (God knew the truth even if people couldn't see it), but Jesus still died for me. He still wanted me. I had heard about God's love before, even known a measure of it and experienced His love. But this, THIS was different. This was deeper, more powerful. That stark contrast of the darkness in me and the fact that I completely and totally deserved death as an enemy of God, but He loved me and died for me and made me a new creation. Although I still can't tell you that day, I do remember the moment of realization: everything was different. It felt like coming out of a dark cave and seeing the sun and the ocean and sky and colors for the first time. And it was worth those incredible difficult months to get there, and I'd do it again.
I love the love of God. And I also love His holiness and His purity and His justice. (And so many other qualities!) Sometimes, I think it's easy to be afraid of these aspects of Him -- they are rather scary for us who live in a world that wars against Him. But these characteristics are just as much a part of His character as His love is. The angels around His throne never stop saying, "Holy, holy, holy." Yet we don't even want to think of His holiness or the implications of His holiness. And because we don't know these aspects of Him -- holiness, purity, righteousness, justice -- we think that we can't be that bad. But the truth is the truth, whether or not we know it. It's not that God is mean and judgmental and out to get us. It's that He has certain qualities that tend to incinerate things that are dead. Like a heat source or hot fire can set a dead twig on fire without even touching it, but one that's alive won't catch fire and burn. God told Adam and Eve that if they ate of the tree, they would die. And even though their bodies carried on for awhile after that, there was a part of them that died, and they passed that death on. If we're not connected to Life, to Jesus (the Vine from John 15), and then come before Him at death, we're still a dead, dry branch that can't survive the heat. It's just the nature of God and the nature of a person who has not been made one with Christ.
When we think of being corrected, we think of it in terms of how people correct us. His correction is different. It is steadfast and resolute, but so incredibly kind and gentle and freeing. Last year, someone corrected me over some perceived failings. The person speaks with a lot of authority, and says that it's from the Lord. I've had many conversations with the Lord about it -- Lord, had I missed what You were saying to me? Is there a blind spot that You wanted to point out to me? His response was a question, "Have I ever corrected you in a way that made you feel rejected and didn't leave you feeling hopeful and free?" No. Absolutely no. He never has. His correction is wonderful.
All of these things about Him and combined perfectly in Him fascinate me. And they seem to amplify each other. His holiness and justice don't diminish His love. It amplifies it. As does His love amplify His holiness and justice. He is unceasingly fascinating.
We need to view ourselves against the backdrop of His character -- all aspects of His character as we grow in knowledge of Him. Sometimes we have to take a
leap of faith, in believing He's good even when we see something that we perceive as
not good. We can always ask Him for help and understanding, but there are moments when we need to just trust Him.
He is so many things to us. I suppose that's why His name is I AM. He is Creator. He is Savior. He is Lord. He is King. He is Ruler. He is Judge. He is Father. He is Almighty God. He is Counselor. He is Prince of Peace. He is Bridegroom. I adore Him. I want to know Him in all of these ways.
Saturday, June 10, 2017
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Sight Dependency
Many may not know this, but without contacts or glasses, I'm essentially blind. It's hard to describe just how poor my eyes are. I can throw out numbers like "-6.75" for my prescription strength or "20/1200", but what does that even mean? Essentially, it means that if you're 10 feet (3 meters) away (or even a little less) and ask me how many fingers you're holding up, I can't tell you. It means I can barely see well enough to put eyeliner on without my contacts, with the end of the eyeliner pencil touching the mirror. It means I can't read your averaged sized font in a book or on a computer screen if I'm more than about 5 inches/13 centimeters away.
And it means I don't go a moment without my contacts (or glasses). I prefer the contacts because they don't sit on my face, I have peripheral vision, I feel like I can just see normally, I can buy any pair of sunglasses... it just seems easier.
But it does mean that impromptu over-nighters are complicated if I haven't brought contact cases, contact solution, and glasses with me. This happened in Mozambique when a group of us took a day trip to "the island", and the day trip turned into an over-nigher. The biggest reason I almost said no to the over-night stay was because of my eyes. I have to take the contacts out. But if I take them out, I can't see. And if I don't have somewhere to put them and they dry out, going through waking hours without vision correction would be a burden to everyone else!
In that case, it resulted in 5 of us laughing hysterically as we tried to solve this problem. The obvious solution, according to my friends, was that they needed to make themselves cry, collect their tears, and create homemade saline solution for my contacts. Staring contests and onion cutting were involved, but precious few tears were produced. (Although we did laugh so hard that we practically cried!) In the end, I went with bottled water and a bottle cap.
Despite all of this, I generally forget that I'm essentially blind and I need to take care of that which allows me to see. This has led me to "over wearing" my contacts. It's easy for me to think, "I can see with them, so they're fine." But soft contacts collect bacteria, and since they cover your eye, they also reduce the amount of oxygen getting to your eye. This is why you're not supposed to sleep in them. Or wear them more than 16 hours a day. Or 12. 16 is too much, really. Having lived for a few months in a place where you save up water for the inevitable day that it stops running, it's also very difficult to throw away your daily contacts every day, like you're supposed to. Or every other day. Or every week. Or.... You get the idea. Because, hey, they seem fine. I can still see! But I was unable to perceive any problem. The reality was, my eyes were being oxygen deprived, they were irritated, and had I continued to wear yesterday's (or last week's) contacts, and wear them too long, it would have added damaged eyes to bad eyes.
Thankfully, my eyes are fine -- they are slightly abused, but recovering and looking good. The eye doctor banned me from contacts for at least 2 weeks -- he preferred three. My ban has been lifted, but he wants me to keep it to 10 hours a day. Basically, only at work. Or only starting at lunch time.
It all makes me think of spiritual sight, too. We get so used to "seeing" the truth with Jesus, that we forget that the only reason we can see at all is because He's corrected our vision -- and we continually need His influence in our lives to continue to see clearly. We can't even just rely on what we had yesterday or last week -- we need new, fresh, visual assistance every day: time in His Word, listening to Him, being with Him.
And how easy it is to lose vision and focus and perspective for our lives. Really, the main thing He's called me to do is represent His heart and His character wherever I go. An area I'm definitely still growing in. And how easy it is to lose sight of that, to lose sight of whatever "vision" we have, when circumstances or others' expectations or even our own expectations of ourselves cloud that vision. Regular visual check-ups are so important. Like a vision chart (which, btw, I can't even see) that tells us, "This is what your supposed to be able to see -- can you still see it?" This is what God has said and who He is and what His promises are and His plans for our lives -- can we still see it?
And it means I don't go a moment without my contacts (or glasses). I prefer the contacts because they don't sit on my face, I have peripheral vision, I feel like I can just see normally, I can buy any pair of sunglasses... it just seems easier.
But it does mean that impromptu over-nighters are complicated if I haven't brought contact cases, contact solution, and glasses with me. This happened in Mozambique when a group of us took a day trip to "the island", and the day trip turned into an over-nigher. The biggest reason I almost said no to the over-night stay was because of my eyes. I have to take the contacts out. But if I take them out, I can't see. And if I don't have somewhere to put them and they dry out, going through waking hours without vision correction would be a burden to everyone else!
In that case, it resulted in 5 of us laughing hysterically as we tried to solve this problem. The obvious solution, according to my friends, was that they needed to make themselves cry, collect their tears, and create homemade saline solution for my contacts. Staring contests and onion cutting were involved, but precious few tears were produced. (Although we did laugh so hard that we practically cried!) In the end, I went with bottled water and a bottle cap.
Despite all of this, I generally forget that I'm essentially blind and I need to take care of that which allows me to see. This has led me to "over wearing" my contacts. It's easy for me to think, "I can see with them, so they're fine." But soft contacts collect bacteria, and since they cover your eye, they also reduce the amount of oxygen getting to your eye. This is why you're not supposed to sleep in them. Or wear them more than 16 hours a day. Or 12. 16 is too much, really. Having lived for a few months in a place where you save up water for the inevitable day that it stops running, it's also very difficult to throw away your daily contacts every day, like you're supposed to. Or every other day. Or every week. Or.... You get the idea. Because, hey, they seem fine. I can still see! But I was unable to perceive any problem. The reality was, my eyes were being oxygen deprived, they were irritated, and had I continued to wear yesterday's (or last week's) contacts, and wear them too long, it would have added damaged eyes to bad eyes.
Thankfully, my eyes are fine -- they are slightly abused, but recovering and looking good. The eye doctor banned me from contacts for at least 2 weeks -- he preferred three. My ban has been lifted, but he wants me to keep it to 10 hours a day. Basically, only at work. Or only starting at lunch time.
It all makes me think of spiritual sight, too. We get so used to "seeing" the truth with Jesus, that we forget that the only reason we can see at all is because He's corrected our vision -- and we continually need His influence in our lives to continue to see clearly. We can't even just rely on what we had yesterday or last week -- we need new, fresh, visual assistance every day: time in His Word, listening to Him, being with Him.
And how easy it is to lose vision and focus and perspective for our lives. Really, the main thing He's called me to do is represent His heart and His character wherever I go. An area I'm definitely still growing in. And how easy it is to lose sight of that, to lose sight of whatever "vision" we have, when circumstances or others' expectations or even our own expectations of ourselves cloud that vision. Regular visual check-ups are so important. Like a vision chart (which, btw, I can't even see) that tells us, "This is what your supposed to be able to see -- can you still see it?" This is what God has said and who He is and what His promises are and His plans for our lives -- can we still see it?
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
The Greatest Privilege
There are a lot of things that have been on my mind and heart over the last couple of years that I've wanted to get out in writing but haven't done so. Now, after a couple years with a lifetime's worth of experiences, where do you even start? I suppose the specific starting point doesn't matter, just that you start. So here we go.
On August 20, 2015, two of the most influential people in my life, Ty and Terri Schenzel, were killed in a car accident. It still seems unreal. Even though I hadn't seen them much, I had been reconnecting with them over the prior couple of years. They played a pivotal role in my life when I was a teenager. They loved and supported and prayed for me and my family. About 4-5 years ago, I was listening to some of Pastor Ty's messages and realized that so much of my thought processes, outlook, perspective, beliefs I learned from Pastor Ty. Terri's statement, "If you want to marry a prince, you need to be a princess," has long stuck with me, so that I've spent more time learning to be a princess rather than seeking a prince. I even clean the bathroom floor the way she taught me (we had carpet, she had tile. Why did we have carpet in the bathroom??!)
God used them (along with a few others) to lay a firm and solid foundation in my life as a lover and follower of Jesus. Ty would often comment on how God has no grand children, and we couldn't ride on the coat tails of our pastors and leaders or people we looked up to in the Body of Christ. It was part of what spurred me to apply to Hope College in Michigan and leave the safety and security of my church, my youth group, this amazing group of people I was a part of. It was the question of: Is my faith my own when I don't have Ty and Terri and Jon and Linda and Jeff all these other people around me? Can I stand on my own two feet, or am I just riding their wave? Funny, when the plan was set in motion to leave Omaha and move to Holland, Michigan, the only people who weren't completely for it were my parents, and Ty and Terri -- my parents at church. Terri cried when I left. And I've missed them (and others) ever since, really. Missed their influence, their wisdom, their insights, their encouragement, their hope, their joy, their "realness", and just their presence.
And now there are no more opportunities. Of course we'll all get to see them again, but we're all deprived of them now. When those of us who knew them all found out, we all used the same word: Devastated. The calls were made and people were informed with words of, "You need to sit down. I need to tell you something terrible. And it's not made up. It's reality." There was denial. There was a lot of crying. I fell into the crying category -- sobbing in a public place for 15 minutes because my heart was too broken to care. 3200 people went to their memorial service while 13,000 watched live online. Nearly everyone there stood in saying, "God used them to change my life." It was a very large group of heart-broken, devastated people. I still think of and pray for their kids and friends.
This heart-wrenching event somehow led to one of the greatest privileges I've experienced in my life. I found out at 5pm on Friday, and at 7pm was Deep River, a monthly time of worship (and teaching) that happens in Cape Town. And I couldn't wait to get there and just worship God. All I wanted to do was take my broken heart and my tears and say, "You are good, You are good, You are good. I don't blame You. You are the same Person today that You were yesterday, and nothing is going to change my mind on this. In the midst this horrible loss, I gladly bring to You my broken heart and say You are still good, You are still worthy, I still love You, and I still worship You." And in the middle of probably the deepest sorrow I've ever experienced, I also experienced this unexpected joy of being grounded in Him through it all.
I'm so thankful for His grace in my life to somehow work that response in me. It was such a privilege to honor Him in that way, in the middle of my personal grief. I had this awareness that these are the moments when we often turn and accuse Him of wrong doing. The world certainly does it: "Why would a loving God do or allow this or that? How could He? Why would He? How could He be good? He couldn't be! We want nothing to do with Him!" But in that moment, with the spiritual world watching, I got to say, "He is still God, He is still good, I still love Him, and I still worship Him."
The enemy will do anything he can in any way he can to throw us off and get us to doubt God's goodness, kindness, and love toward us. That's what he was trying to do with Job -- get Job to move from, "God is good," to, "curse [Him] to [His] face". In the difficult situations around us, he'll accuse God of not loving us or caring for us or listening to us. If that doesn't work, he'll try to increase strife in relationships. If that doesn't work, he'll just condemn us directly on our faults or failings, real or perceived (or a mixture of both), and insist that God is disappointed or displeased with us. If taking away the "perks" of the relationship doesn't work, he goes after the relationship itself, so that maybe because of that accusation, we'll pull back from this Wonderful One who died so He could draw us near to Himself. Then instead we say, "You may be good, but I'm a disappointment to You," and we distance ourselves from Him.
But then we just get to dig in deeper to this privilege, "Though I am weak and have failed, You are still faithful, You are still good, You are still worthy, and I will still come to You with love and worship. If you died for me when I was a far from You, surely You won't leave my side when I'm seeking You, no matter how I feel or any mistakes I've made."
And then, yet again, all the spiritual world, and all those around us, can see that we love and value our God and Savior, King Jesus, above it all. Even though life is difficult and painful at times, even though we struggle and don't always see Him clearly, we still stand and say, "Our God is still good. He is still faithful. He has never changed and He never will. He's still worthy, we still love Him, and we still worship Him."
On August 20, 2015, two of the most influential people in my life, Ty and Terri Schenzel, were killed in a car accident. It still seems unreal. Even though I hadn't seen them much, I had been reconnecting with them over the prior couple of years. They played a pivotal role in my life when I was a teenager. They loved and supported and prayed for me and my family. About 4-5 years ago, I was listening to some of Pastor Ty's messages and realized that so much of my thought processes, outlook, perspective, beliefs I learned from Pastor Ty. Terri's statement, "If you want to marry a prince, you need to be a princess," has long stuck with me, so that I've spent more time learning to be a princess rather than seeking a prince. I even clean the bathroom floor the way she taught me (we had carpet, she had tile. Why did we have carpet in the bathroom??!)
God used them (along with a few others) to lay a firm and solid foundation in my life as a lover and follower of Jesus. Ty would often comment on how God has no grand children, and we couldn't ride on the coat tails of our pastors and leaders or people we looked up to in the Body of Christ. It was part of what spurred me to apply to Hope College in Michigan and leave the safety and security of my church, my youth group, this amazing group of people I was a part of. It was the question of: Is my faith my own when I don't have Ty and Terri and Jon and Linda and Jeff all these other people around me? Can I stand on my own two feet, or am I just riding their wave? Funny, when the plan was set in motion to leave Omaha and move to Holland, Michigan, the only people who weren't completely for it were my parents, and Ty and Terri -- my parents at church. Terri cried when I left. And I've missed them (and others) ever since, really. Missed their influence, their wisdom, their insights, their encouragement, their hope, their joy, their "realness", and just their presence.
And now there are no more opportunities. Of course we'll all get to see them again, but we're all deprived of them now. When those of us who knew them all found out, we all used the same word: Devastated. The calls were made and people were informed with words of, "You need to sit down. I need to tell you something terrible. And it's not made up. It's reality." There was denial. There was a lot of crying. I fell into the crying category -- sobbing in a public place for 15 minutes because my heart was too broken to care. 3200 people went to their memorial service while 13,000 watched live online. Nearly everyone there stood in saying, "God used them to change my life." It was a very large group of heart-broken, devastated people. I still think of and pray for their kids and friends.
This heart-wrenching event somehow led to one of the greatest privileges I've experienced in my life. I found out at 5pm on Friday, and at 7pm was Deep River, a monthly time of worship (and teaching) that happens in Cape Town. And I couldn't wait to get there and just worship God. All I wanted to do was take my broken heart and my tears and say, "You are good, You are good, You are good. I don't blame You. You are the same Person today that You were yesterday, and nothing is going to change my mind on this. In the midst this horrible loss, I gladly bring to You my broken heart and say You are still good, You are still worthy, I still love You, and I still worship You." And in the middle of probably the deepest sorrow I've ever experienced, I also experienced this unexpected joy of being grounded in Him through it all.
I'm so thankful for His grace in my life to somehow work that response in me. It was such a privilege to honor Him in that way, in the middle of my personal grief. I had this awareness that these are the moments when we often turn and accuse Him of wrong doing. The world certainly does it: "Why would a loving God do or allow this or that? How could He? Why would He? How could He be good? He couldn't be! We want nothing to do with Him!" But in that moment, with the spiritual world watching, I got to say, "He is still God, He is still good, I still love Him, and I still worship Him."
The enemy will do anything he can in any way he can to throw us off and get us to doubt God's goodness, kindness, and love toward us. That's what he was trying to do with Job -- get Job to move from, "God is good," to, "curse [Him] to [His] face". In the difficult situations around us, he'll accuse God of not loving us or caring for us or listening to us. If that doesn't work, he'll try to increase strife in relationships. If that doesn't work, he'll just condemn us directly on our faults or failings, real or perceived (or a mixture of both), and insist that God is disappointed or displeased with us. If taking away the "perks" of the relationship doesn't work, he goes after the relationship itself, so that maybe because of that accusation, we'll pull back from this Wonderful One who died so He could draw us near to Himself. Then instead we say, "You may be good, but I'm a disappointment to You," and we distance ourselves from Him.
But then we just get to dig in deeper to this privilege, "Though I am weak and have failed, You are still faithful, You are still good, You are still worthy, and I will still come to You with love and worship. If you died for me when I was a far from You, surely You won't leave my side when I'm seeking You, no matter how I feel or any mistakes I've made."
And then, yet again, all the spiritual world, and all those around us, can see that we love and value our God and Savior, King Jesus, above it all. Even though life is difficult and painful at times, even though we struggle and don't always see Him clearly, we still stand and say, "Our God is still good. He is still faithful. He has never changed and He never will. He's still worthy, we still love Him, and we still worship Him."
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Thanksgiving
For the last couple of years, there has been little opportunity for me to reflect on or really engage in the holiday season -- Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was usually in the middle of a mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical "marathon" that ended up with me in a semi-catatonic state by the time Christmas rolled around. I spent most of Thanksgiving last year in bed sick for 3 days! I'm thankful to NOT be sick this year (in fact, I've only been sick ONCE since then! Thank You, Jesus!)
When I helped to lead the Father's House discipleship school in South Africa, my friend Clare would always teach on thankfulness. At the end of her talk, she'd loudly play music and have us all shout out to God what we were thankful for, for at least 10 minutes. It was an "every man/woman for him/her self" kind of a thing, and you'd hear what the people around you were thanking God for. We hit every area in life and everything we could think of. One of my favorites is one of the students saying, "I'm thankful for my hair!" complete with actions, enthusiastically running his fingers through his hair and pulling it to stand straight up. He did have nice hair.
Thankfulness is really an amazing thing. Have you ever been incredibly thankful for hot, running water? Not because you've just spent some time in Mozambique where running water and hot water are rarities, but because you just decided to thank God for it every time you took a shower, realizing that it's a privilege that most of humanity hasn't enjoyed. And then eventually the mental reasoning of thankfulness becomes thankfulness from the heart: Wow. I actually get to enjoy hot, running water!!
Sometimes thankfulness is hard when disappointments or trials or losses come. (And maybe a waning of thankfulness feeds the feeling of disappointment.) We all get hit by them in one way or another. Mixed in with all the amazing experiences and opportunities and things God has done has also been, since March of 2015, pretty steady stream of disappointments, trials, and losses -- more than I'd ever experienced before. The challenge has been, and my question for myself, can I find Jesus in the middle of it all? When even a good thing feels like a consolation prize. Can I still trust Him, know and believe that He's good, that He's with me, that He won't forsake me, that He's faithful, and thank Him for it all, even for the difficult things that I don't like, because He's greater than it all, He can (and will) use it to make me more like Him, and He'll be glorified in it?
In the midst of seeing hopes and dreams and vision die, even things I strongly felt like He said, can I surrender it to Him, try to get a glimpse of eternity and Heaven, and trust in the One Who is the Resurrection and the Life? And then pause to remember what He has done. How He left the ease and comfort of Heaven for this challenging place called earth and died for me. For His amazing mercy, grace, love, nearness, and faithfulness. For my family and friends. For the people He's let me see with His eyes. For the beauty of His creation that He's allowed me to see. For the time I told Him I needed Him to protect, defend, and provide for me, He came through in mere hours. For how He's provided a job, a place to stay, a vehicle, food and coff... I mean water. And hot running water. And yes, for coffee.
Thank Daddy for being so good, for being faithful, for always pursuing me, always loving me, and for never changing or shifting in any way at all. Thank You for the opportunity to go to Africa and my time there, and the same for South Africa specifically. Thank You for bringing me to Waco (against my wildest imaginations). Thank You for all the difficulties over the past year or two and for Your discipline in my life. Thank You that nothing is wasted with You. Thank You that You have always brought me through. Thank You that Your word never returns void. Thank You that You are the Yes and Amen. Thank You for life. Thank You for the things you will bring about. And thank You for all the little things I so easily take for granted, from a bed and blankets and pillow, clothing, electricity, plumbing, senses that work, legs to walk, hands and fingers, "my hair"... and hot running water.
When I helped to lead the Father's House discipleship school in South Africa, my friend Clare would always teach on thankfulness. At the end of her talk, she'd loudly play music and have us all shout out to God what we were thankful for, for at least 10 minutes. It was an "every man/woman for him/her self" kind of a thing, and you'd hear what the people around you were thanking God for. We hit every area in life and everything we could think of. One of my favorites is one of the students saying, "I'm thankful for my hair!" complete with actions, enthusiastically running his fingers through his hair and pulling it to stand straight up. He did have nice hair.
Thankfulness is really an amazing thing. Have you ever been incredibly thankful for hot, running water? Not because you've just spent some time in Mozambique where running water and hot water are rarities, but because you just decided to thank God for it every time you took a shower, realizing that it's a privilege that most of humanity hasn't enjoyed. And then eventually the mental reasoning of thankfulness becomes thankfulness from the heart: Wow. I actually get to enjoy hot, running water!!
Sometimes thankfulness is hard when disappointments or trials or losses come. (And maybe a waning of thankfulness feeds the feeling of disappointment.) We all get hit by them in one way or another. Mixed in with all the amazing experiences and opportunities and things God has done has also been, since March of 2015, pretty steady stream of disappointments, trials, and losses -- more than I'd ever experienced before. The challenge has been, and my question for myself, can I find Jesus in the middle of it all? When even a good thing feels like a consolation prize. Can I still trust Him, know and believe that He's good, that He's with me, that He won't forsake me, that He's faithful, and thank Him for it all, even for the difficult things that I don't like, because He's greater than it all, He can (and will) use it to make me more like Him, and He'll be glorified in it?
In the midst of seeing hopes and dreams and vision die, even things I strongly felt like He said, can I surrender it to Him, try to get a glimpse of eternity and Heaven, and trust in the One Who is the Resurrection and the Life? And then pause to remember what He has done. How He left the ease and comfort of Heaven for this challenging place called earth and died for me. For His amazing mercy, grace, love, nearness, and faithfulness. For my family and friends. For the people He's let me see with His eyes. For the beauty of His creation that He's allowed me to see. For the time I told Him I needed Him to protect, defend, and provide for me, He came through in mere hours. For how He's provided a job, a place to stay, a vehicle, food and coff... I mean water. And hot running water. And yes, for coffee.
Thank Daddy for being so good, for being faithful, for always pursuing me, always loving me, and for never changing or shifting in any way at all. Thank You for the opportunity to go to Africa and my time there, and the same for South Africa specifically. Thank You for bringing me to Waco (against my wildest imaginations). Thank You for all the difficulties over the past year or two and for Your discipline in my life. Thank You that nothing is wasted with You. Thank You that You have always brought me through. Thank You that Your word never returns void. Thank You that You are the Yes and Amen. Thank You for life. Thank You for the things you will bring about. And thank You for all the little things I so easily take for granted, from a bed and blankets and pillow, clothing, electricity, plumbing, senses that work, legs to walk, hands and fingers, "my hair"... and hot running water.
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Don't Worry About What You'll Eat...What You'll Wear - Part 2
At some point in my life, I decided I needed to give some attention
to what I was eating. The college and early-20s lifestyle of eating
mainly fast food, processed food, lots of sweets (I have a sweet tooth),
and drinking lots of soda just wasn't working for me. Or my
waistline. Diets come and go (and the pounds go and come with and
without them), so I knew it had to be a lifestyle change. So I started
learning to eat more healthy and started learning how to cook.
There are so many, many differing ideas about diet and eating habit. There's the super-healthy fitness crowd that tries to eat "clean", lean diets of high protein and fruits and veggies, but low carbs, fat, and sugar. There's the vegetarian group, the pescatarian (vegetarian + fish) group, and the vegan group. There's the revolving diet group, and then there's the group that's been blessed enough to never have to think about it. There's banting, paleo, gluten free, Atkins, Isagenics, Juice Plus, diet pills, and I don't even know what else. And some have landed in the camp of: Eat whatever, it's all from God, it can't make you fat, and if it does you need to stand in faith that it won't harm you and it's fine. (This goes along with the verse, "You will drink/eat poison and it won't harm you.")
And there is probably something that is true in all of these different things, otherwise they wouldn't work for anyone at all. But there's always someone who swears by each of them.
I've landed in the camp of: If God made it, it's probably safe to eat (unless, you know, it's poisonous mushrooms in the back yard). Eating giving at least a little consideration to what I eat falls into the realm of taking care of what God gave me. I want to make good choices, but I don't want it to have a controlling factor in my life. I'm free to eat anything, but I'm also free to say no to it all. Including the ice cream I tend to over indulge in when traveling or after moving...
Most of us do worry about what we eat. Maybe not in the way that Jesus talked about it. That was a literal, "I wonder if I'm going to eat tomorrow. What am I going to do? How can I buy or find food for tomorrow??" We worry about how it's going to make us fat. Or sick. Or somehow unhealthy. So if I pay attention to what I eat, it's because I want to be a good steward of the body God has given me, and I want it to last. If I had a car (incidentally, I don't right now), I would take it in for regular oil changes, put gas in it at appropriate times, clean it off to keep it in good working order. That's what I want to do with my body.
When it comes to taking care of our bodies, healthcare and dealing with sickness becomes a major issue as well. And we see every ideology from, "It's all doctors," to "God uses doctors" then "I only use what's natural" and all the way to "I don't have to take anything ever because I have God who will heal me." The theological intricacies are above my pay grade, but I know God cares about my health, I know He doesn't want me to be sick, and I know He can do anything and use anything for my healing. My only job is to hear His voice and follow Him.
Before I moved to Africa, I'd been sick about once in 6 years. I lived with people who were sick every month, and in the 2 1/2 years in their house, I didn't get sick once. My immune system was rocking it! I went to South Africa. During those 7 weeks, almost everyone got sick but me. And then I went to Mozambique. Most everyone had...bowel issues, but I was fine. But by July I'd been eating mainly cheap pasta and rice with little nutritional value, limited amounts of fruits, veg, and protein. Just bread, pasta, rice, repeat. And Moz is dirty, and dusty, and the dust blows everywhere so that you breathe it. You're around hundreds of people in less-than-clean conditions. I started coughing. After a week in Madagascar, I had literally the worse cold I'd ever had in my life. It turned into full-on sinus infection, double ear infections, and coughing up stuff that shouldn't come out of your lungs. My head was a constant, pounding drum. The Hulk is green on the outside. I was green on the inside. It was horrible. I even cried.
Normally I try to avoid taking drugs. Not this time. I was trying to get a hold of some good drugs to kill everything that was trying to kill me. This head and chest infect of doom returned every 2-3 months as an unwelcomed visitor that just wouldn't leave. I still had the mentality of, "I do not get sick," which I'd lived in for 6 years. But my body didn't care in the slightest about my mentality. Sickness didn't care about my faith. It was angry. And it would be heard. Every. Single. 2-3. Months.
While amazing things were happening in Africa, there was also a lot of stress and pressure around me, which can take its toll on a person's health (did you know health issues are often common place with missionaries?). A couple friends encouraged me to take, and pushed, vitamins. I reluctantly started taking those silly vitamins in January of this year. And I started getting more sleep. In addition to eating a little bit better over the last year. And you know what? This year, I've only been sick once for about a week. And it wasn't that bad. The sinus infection of doom and destruction wasn't able to sink it's nasty (really, really, super nasty!) claws into me. A nursing friend of mine always says, "Aspirin retards the virus!" So when I started feeling a little funny, I'd start taking an Aspirin every day, up my vitamin C, and be fine. That's happened 3-4 times. Woo-hoo!
Now, I'm still not a huge fan of drugs. But you know, I'm not a huge fan of being sick 50% of the time either, and I'll use the things God has made available to give my abused immune system a boost until it's recovered again. I don't plan to be on the vitamin and aspirin regimen forever. But right now I have the means to purchase these things, God has made them available, and I'm thankful.
And I'll let myself enjoy some ice cream every now and then.
There are so many, many differing ideas about diet and eating habit. There's the super-healthy fitness crowd that tries to eat "clean", lean diets of high protein and fruits and veggies, but low carbs, fat, and sugar. There's the vegetarian group, the pescatarian (vegetarian + fish) group, and the vegan group. There's the revolving diet group, and then there's the group that's been blessed enough to never have to think about it. There's banting, paleo, gluten free, Atkins, Isagenics, Juice Plus, diet pills, and I don't even know what else. And some have landed in the camp of: Eat whatever, it's all from God, it can't make you fat, and if it does you need to stand in faith that it won't harm you and it's fine. (This goes along with the verse, "You will drink/eat poison and it won't harm you.")
And there is probably something that is true in all of these different things, otherwise they wouldn't work for anyone at all. But there's always someone who swears by each of them.
I've landed in the camp of: If God made it, it's probably safe to eat (unless, you know, it's poisonous mushrooms in the back yard). Eating giving at least a little consideration to what I eat falls into the realm of taking care of what God gave me. I want to make good choices, but I don't want it to have a controlling factor in my life. I'm free to eat anything, but I'm also free to say no to it all. Including the ice cream I tend to over indulge in when traveling or after moving...
Most of us do worry about what we eat. Maybe not in the way that Jesus talked about it. That was a literal, "I wonder if I'm going to eat tomorrow. What am I going to do? How can I buy or find food for tomorrow??" We worry about how it's going to make us fat. Or sick. Or somehow unhealthy. So if I pay attention to what I eat, it's because I want to be a good steward of the body God has given me, and I want it to last. If I had a car (incidentally, I don't right now), I would take it in for regular oil changes, put gas in it at appropriate times, clean it off to keep it in good working order. That's what I want to do with my body.
When it comes to taking care of our bodies, healthcare and dealing with sickness becomes a major issue as well. And we see every ideology from, "It's all doctors," to "God uses doctors" then "I only use what's natural" and all the way to "I don't have to take anything ever because I have God who will heal me." The theological intricacies are above my pay grade, but I know God cares about my health, I know He doesn't want me to be sick, and I know He can do anything and use anything for my healing. My only job is to hear His voice and follow Him.
Before I moved to Africa, I'd been sick about once in 6 years. I lived with people who were sick every month, and in the 2 1/2 years in their house, I didn't get sick once. My immune system was rocking it! I went to South Africa. During those 7 weeks, almost everyone got sick but me. And then I went to Mozambique. Most everyone had...bowel issues, but I was fine. But by July I'd been eating mainly cheap pasta and rice with little nutritional value, limited amounts of fruits, veg, and protein. Just bread, pasta, rice, repeat. And Moz is dirty, and dusty, and the dust blows everywhere so that you breathe it. You're around hundreds of people in less-than-clean conditions. I started coughing. After a week in Madagascar, I had literally the worse cold I'd ever had in my life. It turned into full-on sinus infection, double ear infections, and coughing up stuff that shouldn't come out of your lungs. My head was a constant, pounding drum. The Hulk is green on the outside. I was green on the inside. It was horrible. I even cried.
Normally I try to avoid taking drugs. Not this time. I was trying to get a hold of some good drugs to kill everything that was trying to kill me. This head and chest infect of doom returned every 2-3 months as an unwelcomed visitor that just wouldn't leave. I still had the mentality of, "I do not get sick," which I'd lived in for 6 years. But my body didn't care in the slightest about my mentality. Sickness didn't care about my faith. It was angry. And it would be heard. Every. Single. 2-3. Months.
While amazing things were happening in Africa, there was also a lot of stress and pressure around me, which can take its toll on a person's health (did you know health issues are often common place with missionaries?). A couple friends encouraged me to take, and pushed, vitamins. I reluctantly started taking those silly vitamins in January of this year. And I started getting more sleep. In addition to eating a little bit better over the last year. And you know what? This year, I've only been sick once for about a week. And it wasn't that bad. The sinus infection of doom and destruction wasn't able to sink it's nasty (really, really, super nasty!) claws into me. A nursing friend of mine always says, "Aspirin retards the virus!" So when I started feeling a little funny, I'd start taking an Aspirin every day, up my vitamin C, and be fine. That's happened 3-4 times. Woo-hoo!
Now, I'm still not a huge fan of drugs. But you know, I'm not a huge fan of being sick 50% of the time either, and I'll use the things God has made available to give my abused immune system a boost until it's recovered again. I don't plan to be on the vitamin and aspirin regimen forever. But right now I have the means to purchase these things, God has made them available, and I'm thankful.
And I'll let myself enjoy some ice cream every now and then.
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Don't Worry About What You'll Eat...What You'll Wear - Part 1
At times I've heard the verse on, "don't worry what you'll
eat...our what you'll wear..." to be taken to mean, "You can eat
whatever you want (without side effects)," and "It doesn't matter what I
look like." There are elements of truth in these statements, but they
don't carry the whole truth, and I encountered both in my experience in
Africa.
I've always thought of myself as a jeans and t-shirt kinda gal -- comfort is important to me. I don't like sitting with my feet on the ground -- I'm ridiculously flexible and prefer sitting with legs crossed or somehow sitting on one of my legs, even if in a chair (recently I realized my dad does this too! Guess that's where I got it from). I always thought "dress clothes" were uncomfortable. That and... (here comes the deep, dark confession) I don't have much fashion sense. Anything concerning me that's been fashionable has generally been randomly stumbling into it or the Lord literally telling me to do something I did NOT want to do and fought against. (Hello highlighted, yet totally natural, streaked silver/grey, blonde, brown hair that people pay $700+ to try to achieve!)
A few years ago, the Lord in His kindness drew me to
Himself again and strongly laid out my identity, penetrating my heart with
it. In that, He so radically changed me, that I'm certain all of my co-workers
saw a difference after that Christmas and New Year's holiday. I know
some did because they asked me if I had started dating someone! Nope. I'd just so encountered the love and heart of God for me in how He created me and in the Person of Jesus that I just wanted to look the part, for lack of a better way to explain it. I was (and am!) the beloved of God Most High! His princess. His treasure. And I felt like it was His heart that I treat myself like His beloved princess and bride, and that He'd given me the means to do so.
I wasn't worried about what I was going to wear. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I didn't want to look good for my co-workers or catch anyone's eye. Just His. So I bought myself a couple new outfits and some new boots and put on the dreaded (and sometimes irritating) mascara and learned to stop itching my eyes. And, to tread a bit deeper into the waters of vulnerability, every morning as I got ready for work, I heard Him, HIM, tell me how beautiful I was.
Then later, Africa happened. They said there may not be running water or electricity, and that everything would get dirty, so don't bring your nice things. So I didn't. We also had to where skirts or dresses or things that would cover the knees, and I didn't have anything like that. So I went to Goodwill (thrift store, all used) and bought cheap stuff. Thrift stores exhaust me. There no order. It's chaos. You have to look through every. single. article. of clothing. It makes me want to pull out my (beautifully streaked) hair. So I just found things that matched, not necessarily anything that looked good. And that's how it was for over my first year in Africa.
But one day, somewhere in the middle of 2015, I snapped. I was tired of looking like a dirt rat. Plus, a steady diet of rice and pasta and beans and more rice and pasta, pasta and rice, and some beans plus 5-6 cups of coffee a day (with sugar!), and chocolate (because for some reason, these schools in Africa make people go chocolate crazy) had resulted in a few (many) extra pounds by the end of the first 6 months. Bleh. I was a woman, and I was tired of not looking like a woman.
So I took advantage of an horrible circumstance that brought me to the States for a few weeks, pulled out my jewelry, nice clothes, boots, worked the clearance racks and sales at Kohl's like nobody's business (I paid no more than 20% of the value of what I bought!) and brought it all back to South Africa with me. I didn't care if I was on a farm with a lot of dirt. I would make it work. I was going to look like a lady. And I'd found nice and yet also comfortable clothes, so I could morph between looking nice but also be able to curl my legs under myself if need be. Every day before going up to class with the students, I'd make sure I looked nice.
When I was a student (March 2014 in South Africa), one of the missionaries there in particular always looked nice. She wasn't dolled up and fancy, but she just looked nice. She looked like a lady. So I figured, if she could do it, I could do it too. And I also thought, maybe I could be an example to the young (and not so young) ladies in the schools, that just because you're a "missionary" in a place with a lot of dirt, doesn't mean you can't find a way to look nice and be who you are -- a woman.
In Mozambique, Heidi Baker would often encourage the students to take showers and look nice. We always thought, and said, "Yeah right. Have you seen where we live? That's not happening!" But Heidi always looked nice (granted, she did live in better conditions than we did!). At the same time, though, the Mozambiquens gave much more time and attention to their hygiene and preparation for the day than we did. They did they best they could with what they had. Most of us students... not so much. Now, taking showers really may not be possible in that environment, but otherwise, I'm with Heidi now.
Of course none of these things define who I am, give me my identity, or make me a woman. God is pretty much responsible for all of that. This isn't about trying to keep up with fashion or trying to look as good as whomever we want to look as good as. This is taking care of what God has given us. It may kind of be like cleaning up the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen still functions when it's a mess, but a clean kitchen is a wonderful thing. And I can work with what He's given me to reflect how He's created me. I'm not worried about it -- I'm enjoying His blessings and His provision! (Jesus says in Matthew 6:32-33 that our Father knows we need these things and provides them.) He has made me beautiful and I can reflect that outwardly for Him, to honor Him, and thank Him for it.
Since I've already written a book tonight, I guess I'll need to write part 2 later.
I wasn't worried about what I was going to wear. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I didn't want to look good for my co-workers or catch anyone's eye. Just His. So I bought myself a couple new outfits and some new boots and put on the dreaded (and sometimes irritating) mascara and learned to stop itching my eyes. And, to tread a bit deeper into the waters of vulnerability, every morning as I got ready for work, I heard Him, HIM, tell me how beautiful I was.
Then later, Africa happened. They said there may not be running water or electricity, and that everything would get dirty, so don't bring your nice things. So I didn't. We also had to where skirts or dresses or things that would cover the knees, and I didn't have anything like that. So I went to Goodwill (thrift store, all used) and bought cheap stuff. Thrift stores exhaust me. There no order. It's chaos. You have to look through every. single. article. of clothing. It makes me want to pull out my (beautifully streaked) hair. So I just found things that matched, not necessarily anything that looked good. And that's how it was for over my first year in Africa.
But one day, somewhere in the middle of 2015, I snapped. I was tired of looking like a dirt rat. Plus, a steady diet of rice and pasta and beans and more rice and pasta, pasta and rice, and some beans plus 5-6 cups of coffee a day (with sugar!), and chocolate (because for some reason, these schools in Africa make people go chocolate crazy) had resulted in a few (many) extra pounds by the end of the first 6 months. Bleh. I was a woman, and I was tired of not looking like a woman.
So I took advantage of an horrible circumstance that brought me to the States for a few weeks, pulled out my jewelry, nice clothes, boots, worked the clearance racks and sales at Kohl's like nobody's business (I paid no more than 20% of the value of what I bought!) and brought it all back to South Africa with me. I didn't care if I was on a farm with a lot of dirt. I would make it work. I was going to look like a lady. And I'd found nice and yet also comfortable clothes, so I could morph between looking nice but also be able to curl my legs under myself if need be. Every day before going up to class with the students, I'd make sure I looked nice.
When I was a student (March 2014 in South Africa), one of the missionaries there in particular always looked nice. She wasn't dolled up and fancy, but she just looked nice. She looked like a lady. So I figured, if she could do it, I could do it too. And I also thought, maybe I could be an example to the young (and not so young) ladies in the schools, that just because you're a "missionary" in a place with a lot of dirt, doesn't mean you can't find a way to look nice and be who you are -- a woman.
In Mozambique, Heidi Baker would often encourage the students to take showers and look nice. We always thought, and said, "Yeah right. Have you seen where we live? That's not happening!" But Heidi always looked nice (granted, she did live in better conditions than we did!). At the same time, though, the Mozambiquens gave much more time and attention to their hygiene and preparation for the day than we did. They did they best they could with what they had. Most of us students... not so much. Now, taking showers really may not be possible in that environment, but otherwise, I'm with Heidi now.
Of course none of these things define who I am, give me my identity, or make me a woman. God is pretty much responsible for all of that. This isn't about trying to keep up with fashion or trying to look as good as whomever we want to look as good as. This is taking care of what God has given us. It may kind of be like cleaning up the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen still functions when it's a mess, but a clean kitchen is a wonderful thing. And I can work with what He's given me to reflect how He's created me. I'm not worried about it -- I'm enjoying His blessings and His provision! (Jesus says in Matthew 6:32-33 that our Father knows we need these things and provides them.) He has made me beautiful and I can reflect that outwardly for Him, to honor Him, and thank Him for it.
Since I've already written a book tonight, I guess I'll need to write part 2 later.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
The Value of a Thing
I don’t typically like posting about things that are controversial, but this issue has just been on my mind and heart: The gorilla that was shot and killed to rescue a 3-4 year old boy who climbed through security and fell into the gorilla habitat.
If anyone knows anything about how I feel about my dog, you know that I love animals. Fresly was my “baby”. I still miss him. Honestly, I still hope he's okay and that his new family is taking good care of him. And in subtle was I’ve done what so many are doing now. There was a movie that came out many years ago when some threat to earth was vaporizing life. The trailer showed a dog being vaporized and… it bothered me. More than when the same trailer showed the same thing happening to humans. And then the fact that it bothered me bothered me. How could watching the death of an animal be more disturbing than watching the death of a human?! That is not okay! And that’s where many people are today.
I’ve been shocked at how many counts of verbal homicide I’ve read through today. I don’t normally read many comments because on issues like this, it’s just reading a lot of anger and hate, and I’d just rather not! But I’ve been thinking about and listening to teachings on the death of Jesus and the cross and sin and our need for a Savior and how He is our only hope. So reading this verbal massacre struck me. And it struck me that a week ago, all this malice and hatred and anger and murder were in people’s hearts, hiding. This incident only made those things come out for a segment of the population. And apart from Jesus, that is in each of us, given the “right” conditions. And God sees it all, has seen it all, all the time, even if it’s hidden. It was painful to read, at best, the slander against the mother (whom it seems may have been smiling at a camera, with her son at her side, both posing for a picture, and for a few seconds was distracted from her son’s movements due to the picture taking — kids are lightening fast!), and calls for death and various forms of torture and just horrible, horrible comments at worst. Murder, proudly streaming from the hearts of so many. Apart from Jesus, we’re all murderers, and set ourselves up as all-knowing expert, jury, and judge, convinced that our self-righteous sentence is justice. We are horribly deceived.
The value of human life and animal life has been a large part of this discussion, many thinking human and animal life is equal, or even that animal life is more valuable because they’re helpless. There is a godly component to valuing the earth and animal life — one of the tasks God gave us when He created us and what we see now was to care for the animals and for the earth. That is godly and part of God’s design. But it was never to be at the expense of humans — of men, women, and children.
I must say emphatically, that one human life, any one, is of more value and worth than every animal that’s ever lived for two reasons.
1.) Men and women were created in the image of God Himself. Animals were not. We, astonishingly, are the only beings in all of creation that actually reflect the character and attributes of God. Some of these things are seen in our capacity to love, experience a wide range of emotions, imagine, and create beyond what any other life on earth can. (Part of the whole “fall” issue is that we often don’t reflect those attributes well — as in this case with all the angry comments.)
2.) God became a human being, Jesus, and then died the death penalty that we all deserved. We were all hateful, angry, murderers at heart, all deserving the death sentence (as so many have said this mother, and even her son, deserve), but God Himself took our death penalty upon Himself. God values humans, you, more than He values protecting His own feelings, comfort, and life. He didn’t become a squirrel or dog or horse or gorilla. He became a human. And He didn’t die for those animals either. He died for humans. And if there were only one human, you, that would have been enough reason for Him to die in your place — only yours. Father God values human life at the price of His Son Jesus. God's estimation of your value is His own life. That is infinite value. That is why all the animals to have ever lived will together never outweigh the value of one human life. And when we come to Him, acknowledging the various forms of hate and violence within ourselves, accepting His death in our place, and deciding to believe what He says, He can somehow take the worst of us and make us into the most gracious, kind, joyful, patient, loving people the world has ever seen.
Finally, I would like to point out that Satan has been trying to destroy humans since we were first created. He was the one who tempted Adam and Eve, twisting God’s words and saying death wouldn’t be the result of disobeying and eating the fruit the Lord said not to. The Bible also says that this enemy of ours, who has wanted us all dead from the beginning, is out to steal, kill, and destroy and that his target is humans. Not birds or fish or rhinos or elephants or zebras or gorillas — but *us*! To in any way say that the life of an animal is more valuable than any human at all is to agree and take sides with the one who wants you dead, and to say that the One who created you created trash.
God deeply loves all of His creation. But you, YOU, He wants to call “my child”. He cares for everything He has created, but you, YOU, He wants to call “my beloved”. He says of the sparrows and lilies that He feeds them and cares for them. But for humanity He uses the language of Father to child and Husband to wife. And He is a very, very good Father and a very, very good Husband.
And, by they way, if you know Him and love Him, when you enter into life with Him in the home He's prepared in Heaven for those who love Him, if you're not too wrapped up in experiencing the greatest love you've ever experienced, you can probably ask Him if Harambe the gorilla can be a part of life in Heaven. I wouldn't be surprised if He says yes. I've already told Him I want Fresly there with me. Even though I'm pretty sure I'll be completely enamored with Him. He's already captivated me.
If anyone knows anything about how I feel about my dog, you know that I love animals. Fresly was my “baby”. I still miss him. Honestly, I still hope he's okay and that his new family is taking good care of him. And in subtle was I’ve done what so many are doing now. There was a movie that came out many years ago when some threat to earth was vaporizing life. The trailer showed a dog being vaporized and… it bothered me. More than when the same trailer showed the same thing happening to humans. And then the fact that it bothered me bothered me. How could watching the death of an animal be more disturbing than watching the death of a human?! That is not okay! And that’s where many people are today.
I’ve been shocked at how many counts of verbal homicide I’ve read through today. I don’t normally read many comments because on issues like this, it’s just reading a lot of anger and hate, and I’d just rather not! But I’ve been thinking about and listening to teachings on the death of Jesus and the cross and sin and our need for a Savior and how He is our only hope. So reading this verbal massacre struck me. And it struck me that a week ago, all this malice and hatred and anger and murder were in people’s hearts, hiding. This incident only made those things come out for a segment of the population. And apart from Jesus, that is in each of us, given the “right” conditions. And God sees it all, has seen it all, all the time, even if it’s hidden. It was painful to read, at best, the slander against the mother (whom it seems may have been smiling at a camera, with her son at her side, both posing for a picture, and for a few seconds was distracted from her son’s movements due to the picture taking — kids are lightening fast!), and calls for death and various forms of torture and just horrible, horrible comments at worst. Murder, proudly streaming from the hearts of so many. Apart from Jesus, we’re all murderers, and set ourselves up as all-knowing expert, jury, and judge, convinced that our self-righteous sentence is justice. We are horribly deceived.
The value of human life and animal life has been a large part of this discussion, many thinking human and animal life is equal, or even that animal life is more valuable because they’re helpless. There is a godly component to valuing the earth and animal life — one of the tasks God gave us when He created us and what we see now was to care for the animals and for the earth. That is godly and part of God’s design. But it was never to be at the expense of humans — of men, women, and children.
I must say emphatically, that one human life, any one, is of more value and worth than every animal that’s ever lived for two reasons.
1.) Men and women were created in the image of God Himself. Animals were not. We, astonishingly, are the only beings in all of creation that actually reflect the character and attributes of God. Some of these things are seen in our capacity to love, experience a wide range of emotions, imagine, and create beyond what any other life on earth can. (Part of the whole “fall” issue is that we often don’t reflect those attributes well — as in this case with all the angry comments.)
2.) God became a human being, Jesus, and then died the death penalty that we all deserved. We were all hateful, angry, murderers at heart, all deserving the death sentence (as so many have said this mother, and even her son, deserve), but God Himself took our death penalty upon Himself. God values humans, you, more than He values protecting His own feelings, comfort, and life. He didn’t become a squirrel or dog or horse or gorilla. He became a human. And He didn’t die for those animals either. He died for humans. And if there were only one human, you, that would have been enough reason for Him to die in your place — only yours. Father God values human life at the price of His Son Jesus. God's estimation of your value is His own life. That is infinite value. That is why all the animals to have ever lived will together never outweigh the value of one human life. And when we come to Him, acknowledging the various forms of hate and violence within ourselves, accepting His death in our place, and deciding to believe what He says, He can somehow take the worst of us and make us into the most gracious, kind, joyful, patient, loving people the world has ever seen.
Finally, I would like to point out that Satan has been trying to destroy humans since we were first created. He was the one who tempted Adam and Eve, twisting God’s words and saying death wouldn’t be the result of disobeying and eating the fruit the Lord said not to. The Bible also says that this enemy of ours, who has wanted us all dead from the beginning, is out to steal, kill, and destroy and that his target is humans. Not birds or fish or rhinos or elephants or zebras or gorillas — but *us*! To in any way say that the life of an animal is more valuable than any human at all is to agree and take sides with the one who wants you dead, and to say that the One who created you created trash.
God deeply loves all of His creation. But you, YOU, He wants to call “my child”. He cares for everything He has created, but you, YOU, He wants to call “my beloved”. He says of the sparrows and lilies that He feeds them and cares for them. But for humanity He uses the language of Father to child and Husband to wife. And He is a very, very good Father and a very, very good Husband.
And, by they way, if you know Him and love Him, when you enter into life with Him in the home He's prepared in Heaven for those who love Him, if you're not too wrapped up in experiencing the greatest love you've ever experienced, you can probably ask Him if Harambe the gorilla can be a part of life in Heaven. I wouldn't be surprised if He says yes. I've already told Him I want Fresly there with me. Even though I'm pretty sure I'll be completely enamored with Him. He's already captivated me.
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