Speaking to God

Have you ever had someone talking to you, and you didn’t realize it until they asked you if you’d heard them? If you didn’t realize they were talking to you, I don’t imagine you heard anything they said. I don’t want God to not realize that I’m actually referring to Him when I pray because I want Him to hear what I have to say, and I am desperate to hear His response. But how can He respond to me if He doesn’t even know I’m talking to Him?

I’m learning that I can be very shallow and one-sided in my prayer life. I will feel like I’m doing the right thing because I’m constantly in prayer, whether petitioning or worshipping or acknowledging my sins. But I’m starting to realize that I’ve been treating prayer like a verbal diary, and that when I ask that a friend be healed of her illness or that my children develop strong ethics, that I’m kind of just hoping it will happen, rather than actually asking God, who has the power to do something about my requests.

It’s as if I’m just speaking into the abyss and calling it ‘Father,’ instead of actually taking the time beforehand to acknowledge that I’m asking to enter into the presence of the Lord of Lords.

I’ve recently been trying to quiet my thoughts more before I pray so that I can fully understand and appreciate the opportunity that’s been given to me, that I can approach the throne of God with my awe, my questions and my requests. It’s been humbling to do so, and at times, I’ve found myself wishing I could just go back to talking to the ceiling again because I don’t want to be so introspective or patient. But building a relationship, any relationship, takes time and vulnerability. I’m truly not interested in just having religion (rules and regulations). I want to have a relationship with God, one where I cling to Him and know Him, not just His handiwork and handouts.

Anyone care to analyze this dream?

I woke up from a dream this morning that was just too fun not to share. I dreamed that I was in line with my family to ride a new mystery ride at an amusement park like Six Flags or Disneyland or something. No one knew what the ride was, but we were warned not to ride it if we suffered from a heart condition or if we were pregnant. It didn’t give any age limits, so my two small kiddos went with us. (In real life, that would NEVER happen.)

As we’re in line to ride the ride, we are taken into a dark building. We get on the ride in the building. As the ride starts, we hear music up ahead and soon come into a room that is made out to look like a nightclub from the 1950’s or something. People were playing pool, some were making loud chatter at the bar, others were sitting in booths pawing at each other, and still others were seated around a stage where a lady was singing the blues, backed up by a mighty fine acoustic jazz band.

As we’re nearing the end of the room, we hear a single piercing scream. We all look, including all the patrons of the club, and more screams follow as we see these guys with gas masks and white lab coats come storming in, injecting people with serums of ‘something’ that makes them fall to the ground, and they start gassing the place.

The ride quickly speeds up and gets rough, tossing us from one side of our car to the other. Before we know it, we’re outside, going up one of those long hills that’s meant to increase anticipation, and then we fall forward, increasing speed enough to make a loop. After a few more violent turns, we slow down and re-enter the dark building.

Because we enter through a different side of the building, the inside is made out to look like the aftermath of the attack on the club. There’s no song being sung by the jazz singer, there’s no pool players or bar drinkers, no public displays of affection. Everyone is lying on the floor, twisted uncomfortably with looks of panic on their faces, cemented forever by rigermortus. Everyone, that is, except for about 5 police officers and detectives who are trying to figure out what happened here. The flash of a camera draws our attention to a photographer who captures the gruesome scene on film for future investigation.

Then we hear a small beeping. Like an alarm, and a song with lyrics like ‘rise and shine’ in it. The police start looking around, putting their hands on their firearms. Then we see the jazz singer, slowly, but surely, getting up. One officer runs over to her to help her up, and she lurches forward and bites him on the neck. We have now encountered zombies, ladies and gentlemen. What in the world am I doing dreaming about zombies?!

We quickly see the rest of the ‘dead’ clubbers get up and attack the policemen. And of course, our ride gathers speed and gets us out of there. We overhear, apparently from a news station over a radio somewhere in our cars, that the park has been taken over by zombies. Then we enter into an ascending tunnel that is enclosed by a more transparent material (not glass though) because we can see pretty well in here. The sunlight is coming in from the top. On the sides of the track that we’re riding on, there is a staircase going up to an opening where sunlight is bursting in. Out of the light, we start to see figures coming toward us. That’s right, our fears are coming true. Zombies are in the tunnel with us! They stumble toward us, trying to shake off the stiffened muscles perhaps. They’re moaning and groaning and slobbering all over themselves. We scream, and the ride speeds us again.

Now we’re outside, and the ride feels more like a roller coaster again, spiraling around and rocking us into the (un)lucky person sharing a car with us. We eventually end up in yet another building where we’re told that the ride had to be averted from its regular drop off point because that platform had been overrun with zombies. We are now being rerouted to stop our ride at a local diner. So we enter into this diner, and all is quiet.

Too quiet.

There are, of course, workers there, dressed like waitresses and waiters, releasing the lap bars and telling us to exit the ride by going down the left corridor. The first people who go down this corridor soon discover that it’s a ‘dead’ end and that there are zombies in there, so they jump and scream with delight and cause a scene. Then the overhead speakers apologize and inform us that we need to try the right corridor. We do, and the ride is over.

Isn’t that silly? In my dream, my dad and brother somehow were on the ride too, although they had started off in the club. They just jumped into two empty seats as we were fleeing the scene. Gillian and Ben happily screamed throughout the ride because, let’s face it, when are we allowed to scream at the top of our lungs for the sheer fun of it? And Josh just clung to me, when he wasn’t thrusting his little 2 year old arm out, extending his hand into the ‘STOP’ pose, and saying “NO! Don’t eat ME!” in a tone that sounded like a ballgame vendor, actually. “Get your Hot Roasted Peanuts here!” “Sweet Cotton Candy!” “Cold Beeeeeeeer!” “NO! Don’t eat ME!”

If I were king of the forest...

Cowardly Lion: Courage.

What makes a King out of a slave? Courage.
What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage.
What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist or the dusky dusk?
What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage.
What makes the Sphinx the 7th Wonder? Courage.
What makes the dawn come up like THUNDER?! Courage.

What makes the Hottentot so hot?
What puts the "ape" in ape-ricot?
Whatta they got that I ain't got?
Dorothy and Friends: Courage!

Cowardly Lion: You can say that again!

Just like the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz, I think we all have it in us to be brave when we need to. You hear stories of mothers who run into burning buildings to save their child or sons and daughters going off to war to face an powerful enemy that threatens their families. We find that our loved ones’ lives are so important to us that we risk our own lives to keep them out of danger. Even though it’s difficult to imagine putting ourselves in harm’s way, we’d do it willingly, without hesitation, courageously for our loved ones.

Well, if God told us to love our neighbors, aren’t we all each other’s loved ones? And yet I’m not putting myself in any real risk for anyone else’s well being. I give money to organizations that do that, but I’m not doing it. I’m not walking in those shoes, the shoes Jesus would wear if He were here right now.

I’m reading an excellent and convicting book called “Good News about Injustice” by Gary Haugen, the president of the International Justice Mission whose goal is to “seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isaiah 1:17). I am so encouraged by this book which honestly discusses the unrelenting injustices happening right now in this world while at the same time giving us hope by pointing us to Scripture that describes a God who is Just.

I was particularly moved by the introduction by the author in which he reveals that he has four children and has been trying to figure out what core gift that he wants to give them to take into the world. He says that more and more he has been praying that his children be men and women of courage. He says that courage “is an odd gift because it’s one we rarely think we’ll need or want.”

In his introduction, Gary Haugen quotes one of my favorite writers, C.S. Lewis, from his book The Screwtape Letters, which says,

Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every
virtue at the testing point, which means, at the point of highest
reality. A chastity or honesty or mercy which yields to danger
will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate
was merciful till it became risky.

Nonsense or Perfect Sense

My mother in law said something to me the other day that has my head spinning. She said that Christianity is believable to her because of the book of Acts. The disciples who followed Jesus around were wishy washy at best in their faith until after Jesus died. One of his most faithful followers was Peter who thought it preposterous when Jesus told him that he would deny Him three times before sunrise. But sure enough, Peter did deny that he knew Jesus as soon as he thought his alliance with Him would get him killed. And he despaired deeply because of it. The disciples must have been so confused as they watched the One they had put their faith in die in excruciating pain and in the most humiliating of ways.

What is so remarkable is that this is the beginning of Christianity, not the end! You would think that Jesus’ death would have made these disciples go back to their old lives and their families and not want to discuss this nonsense anymore. Instead they become strong, courageous men of faith and wisdom who stopped at nothing to tell the world about Jesus. They did this at great loss to themselves. Most of the disciples were horribly murdered for proclaiming the gospel. But even when their teachers, the disciples, were being killed, the people who heard the Word continued to teach the gospel long after their teachers were gone. And so it has continued.

Something apparently happened to those disciples, and the men and women who followed after them to spread the news about Jesus, to embolden them. These were simple men, many of them fishermen, with little if any education or study in God’s Word. But after Jesus’ death, they became great speakers with an understanding of Scripture that challenged the religious leaders. Scripture tells us that the disciples saw Jesus after He had died and that He sent the Holy Spirit to comfort and strengthen them. Without those events, I don’t believe Christianity would have lasted another generation, and yet here we are. Jesus appeared to His friends to set their faith ablaze so that it would spread like wildfire to the ends of the earth.

Today, Jesus doesn’t appear to us. Well, perhaps He does appear to some of us in order to continue that blaze, but for the most part, we rely on our faith that what these disciples said long ago is true. And once we have this faith, Jesus sends the Holy Spirit to comfort and strengthen us too. The Holy Spirit’s work in my life is evidence to me that the gospels are true. Furthermore, examples in Scripture of mere fishermen, persevering despite persecution, standing boldly in front of religious leaders, and spreading the news of Jesus throughout the land tells me there is more to this man than meets the eye.

From the mouths of babes

My sweet son, Josh, is nearly 2 1/2 years old. He amazes me with some of the things he says, and I thought I'd record them here.

• "MOM! Look! It's a butterfly in a rainforest." "Where?" I ask. "In my shirt."
• "Hella-popper" = helicopter
• "Mom, HELP!" What is it?" I ask. "Dat bugs gunna eat my hair."
• When we pray, he folds his hands, bows his head, and tries to repeat everything I say outloud.
• At a baseball game in an outdoor stadium, Josh was fascinated by all the airplanes flying overhead. He knew they were airplanes and said so many times. But one time, really loudly and shaking his finger for dramatic affect, he shouted, "Look, guys! It's a rocket ship!"
• He and I play a game where we crawl around on the floor and chase each other. The fun part is saying "I'm gonna get you" in a very high pitched squeal, followed by "I'm gonna get you" in a deep, low-pitched growl. At the same baseball game, out of the blue, he turned around and looked at the young 20-something behind him, and growled "I'm gonna get you." It really freaked her out!
• We have another thoroughly enjoyable game where he and I say back and forth "You're a copycat." "No, you're a copycat." "No, YOU'RE a copycat!!" My husband refuses to stoop to our level.
• We also exercise together in my living room. I have a video that I exercise to, and the kids like to join me. I have a few weights that I use, while the kids grab whatever toy is nearby to intensify their workout as well. One time, about halfway through the video, Gillian plopped on the floor and said she was pooped. So Josh also fell theatrically on the floor and exclaimed that he too was poop.
• We had a dog for a month. A very sweeet dog that we all treasured, but who didn't like us very much and gave Josh and I allergies pretty badly. His name was Zen and for whatever reason, I called him Zennie-Poo. Josh has never called him anything but Zennie-Poop. In fact, I've heard him recently telling the ladies who watch him in the nursery at church that he misses his Zennie-Poop.
• Every time we go into the bathroom or near a pool, or when he suspects we're near a small body of water, he starts screaming repeatedly, "I wanna go in da water!" This boy LOVES water. He loves water so much that I frequently catch him brushing his teeth and washing his hands several times a day just to be near it.
• We were driving very early in the morning to Houston from Big D a few weeks ago so that the kids would sleep through the drive. When Josh woke up, the first thing out of his mouth was "I like cheese."
• And my all-time favorite: Josh will grab my ears and pull me close to his face and say "I love you, Mom. I love you."

Rock On!!!

My kiddos have a 'rock' collection outside our front door. Every time we step outside, the kids step into their rock-seeking mode, always bringing back treasures and adding them to their collection. The other day, Gillian brought some of her new treasures into the car with her, and Josh was insisting (rather desperately and repeatedly) that she let him hold one. Gillian, not wanting to share, said "Josh, there is more to life than rocks. There are pebbles and stones too."

I'll Treasure You

I just recently bought my daughter a Strawberry Shortcake DVD called Seaberry Beach Party. I like Strawberry Shortcake and her friends because they remind me of my childhood and because of a story my mother-in-law told me about my husband. When he was very young, he saw a local news story about a family whose house had burned down. His heart went out to the young girl in the family who longed for her Strawberry Shortcake doll that had been lost in the fire. He told his mom that he wanted to buy her another Strawberry Shortcake doll and send it to her. They even did a newspaper article about his thoughtful gift to the girl.

As I was checking my email this afternoon, my daughter was watching the DVD, and I couldn’t help but be captivated by a song from the movie. I was so moved by the lyrics to the song that I thought I’d post them here for you to enjoy.

“A friend can be worth
Her weight in gold and more.
More precious each day
Than the day before.
The time you choose to spend
Together with a friend is all it takes
.
A few treasures found
Down in the deep blue sea
May sparkle and excite
Both you and me.
But putting trinkets first
Would have to be the worst of all mistakes.

Can treasure hold me close?
Can treasure comb my hair?
Would treasure laugh
At all my jokes?
Does treasure really care?
Do trinkets sit and chat?
Do trifles swear their truths?
Do golden baubles make me laugh?
They shimmer and they glimmer
But I think I’ll treasure you.

To all my best and sweetest friends
You know I’ll treasure you.”

Isn’t that sweet? Another really nifty thing about this particular Strawberry Shortcake DVD is that it came with its own Bible Study for you to go over with your child. I thought it was very well thought out and applicable to young children. I can appreciate anything that makes it easier to teach our young ones lessons like this one, so I thought I'd pass it on to you, my treasured friends.

Still Struggling with Sin

I had always heard that Christians were hypocrites because they looked down upon anyone who struggled with sins that they didn’t struggle with. You rarely heard them judging anyone who struggled with the same sins they were (currently) committing, but if you did, they would minimize their own struggles by explaining that God was patiently molding them. I didn’t know why they didn’t just show the same grace to others that God gave to them. Wasn’t that part of the reason God showed them that grace now rather than after they got to heaven? I did know some Christians who actually extended grace to everyone regardless of their flaws. They seemed to really understand that God wants us to love others like He loves us. I remember wondering if they worshipped a different God than the rest of the Christians.

I actually do have one of those dramatic life-change conversions. I used to be a drunk and a drug addict. I cut myself for over a decade, dabbled in the occult and used to manipulate people to get my way. I was a little bit confused after I accepted God’s gift of salvation. I no longer felt like the drugs had such a strong hold on me, but I still struggled with other sins. Wasn’t I supposed to be to be able to control those things now? I guess I hadn’t understood that we don’t physically turn into little sinless “Christs.” When I had seen Christians judging others, I had assumed they no longer struggled with sinning anymore and that once I accepted salvation, I wouldn't either. I hadn’t realized that this dirty flesh that I’m caged in keeps the Light from shining through sometimes and that I have to work constantly to keep my mind focused on pure things and to keep my attitude aligned with that of a servant.

I am still friends with some of the people I knew when I was going through all my drug use and self-injury. They never fail to mention how cool it is to see how I have recovered. On the outside, I know my new lifestyle looks very different from my old. But even though they cannot see me struggling anymore, it doesn’t mean that I don’t. I have a whole new set of things I struggle with now like respecting my husband, keeping my tongue tamed and being patient with my young children. Though these are not as obvious as being a drunk or an addict, I know God still sees them.

My identity as a sinner reminds me of my human-ness and my desperate need for a Savior. The only reason my conversion story is so dramatic is because I was so far away from God in my past. If you have a more humble story, God bless you! We all serve a powerful God who has a dramatic change in store for us. From sinner to saint. From lost to found. From death to life. What could be more extraordinary than that?!

Volunteering - it doesn't pay

Because I was so completely self-absorbed in my past, I have a hard time these days focusing on myself unless it is to rebuke myself for something I did or to search for the root motivation for the good things I try to do in order to make certain my heart is in good shape. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long to find something I need to work on which serves to remind me of my exceptional need for a Savior. But rather than feeling relieved and grateful that Jesus will represent me before the Father, I tend to feel disgusting and dirty. Self-flagellation mode is not foreign territory to me.

Do you get the sense that I need to rest in the beautiful grace that was given to me? I know I do, and I admonish myself for not experiencing it better. Typical. I do know this grace. I acknowledge it as the reason why I’ve felt able to trust God. But I don’t let it cover all of the areas of my life. If all I did was focus on being a mom, a wife, and a woman trying to grow stronger in her relationship with God, I imagine I would feel anxious, as if I wasn’t doing as much as I should because I am aware of this world I live in and the struggling people in it. I would feel assured that I was doing ‘some’ of my jobs, my most important jobs even, but I fear that I would feel like there was supposed to be more, like I wasn’t doing the job God “prepared in advance for me to do.”

I’ve often told people that “God didn’t save me to sit on my tush” in response to their observation that I do a lot at church. I do tend to fill up my days with as much as I can. And I believe there are five reasons for this:

Pride. I love getting pats on the back for serving others. My church is so good at supporting and appreciating its volunteers that I get a ‘high’ from it and crave more. I like to think that what I do, only I could do. Like there are all these Lisa-shaped boxes that I need to fill. When my husband had his motor scooter accident last year, I had to ask the different ministries that I was involved in to find someone else to cover my duties. It was a bit of a blow to me to realize that life could go on without my contribution. A much needed blow.

Distraction. Focusing on others keeps me from having to focus on my own life.

Feeling necessary. Being busy gives me a false sense of importance. As if being chosen by God from before the time I was born to receive the gift that His Son would die to give me isn’t enough to make me feel important. The thought of quitting all ministry involvement for one year can keep me up at night in a panic. I don’t necessary believe that I need to halt all involvement in order to better know God’s grace, but I definitely agree that I need to experience it more than I currently do.

Easily motivated. I am not one of those Christians who needs to have my arm twisted behind my back before I agree to work in the church nursery once a month. In fact, I admit that I have a hard time turning down any opportunity to serve. But not all Christians are like this, and church leaders know it, so we are sometimes bombarded with sermons meant to motivate us to live intentional, active lives of servitude. Every time I hear one of these sermons, I check my schedule for any half-hour slots of time I may have available and promptly pencil in another activity. Wouldn’t want to waste what little time I have in this life taking a relaxing bath or watching a sitcom….. Yes, I realize I’m insane.

Philippians 2:12. Perhaps I am ‘working out my salvation with fear and trembling.” Sometimes I fear Christians focus so much on grace that they overlook all the works Jesus asks us to do. Works won’t get you into heaven, but I think they might determine what we’ll do once we get there. I don’t really want God thinking all I’m good for is grocery shopping and drooling over shoes (although I am really good at both!). As much as I like that, I don’t want to spend eternity doing it. Seems it would lose its appeal after the first or second decade, don’t you think? Developing ethical characteristics in my children, learning how to be graceful and patience in the midst of crippling trials, taking care of the poor and investing time into getting to know people – now those are skills that seem like they’d go far in heaven.

I’m working on trying to relax and experience grace more. I can’t be perfect, and I’m getting tired of failing at trying to be everyone’s go-to-girl. Don’t you think volunteering in ministry should be done out of an eager joy to serve others, rather than a guilt-ridden, prideful heart? Me, too.