Adolf Hitler
Joseph Stalin
Dr. Mengele
Chairman Mao
Joseph Kony
Al Capone
Genghis Khan
Robespierre
Fidel Castro
Idi Amin
Richard Speck
The Arkansan who killed 17 of his family members on Christmas day many years ago
Ax murderers
Nero
Child traffickers
People who rob widows of their last dime
Terrorists who blow up school buses
John Wayne Gacy
Animal torturers
Extremists who kill worshipers (Hindu, Christian, Muslim, Jewish... doesn't matter)
Rapists
Drug dealers who enlist little kids into their drug deals
Mothers who kill their own children (Kasey Anthony?)
John Elliott Gruzen
The founders of Westboro Baptist
#Seriously...?
#ifeveryonegoestoHeaven
#willwereallywanttobethere?
#andifeveryonedoesn'tgotoHeaven
#dowewanttobetheonestodecidewhoisinandwhoisout?
#andifeverybadpersonisrecycleduntiltheygetitright
#dowereallywantHitlerandKonybeingreincarnatedtenthousandtimesover?
Just a thought...
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Thinking It Through
I'm really not crazy about it when someone lies to me. As a teacher, that was one of the most irritating things that I had to deal with.
Like the time I caught a student with a cheat sheet as long as Santa's Christmas list, lying in her lap, mostly covered by a sweater. When I took up both the cheat sheet and her test, she looked at me with wide-eyed innocence and said, "I heard something rustling under my sweater but, honest, I thought it was the potato chip bag that I bought at lunch..." Seriously???
Or the time that I saw a student put something in his pocket which I erroneously thought was candy. Skittles to be exact - little sugar coated pellets that someone had been secretly throwing in my classroom during that particular class period. I insisted the kid hand me what was in his pocket and he insisted that his pocket was empty. I persisted until finally he reluctantly emptied his "empty" pocket and out came a small plastic bag of weed. I don't know who was more shocked - the kid who got "busted" or me! As one of my other students told me later, "Well.. at least he didn't have candy..." :)
The problem with lying is that sooner or later, someone's going to look like a fool. Either the person who believed the lie or the person who told the lie and then got caught - and sometimes both. And when someone looks you right in the face and with wide-eyed candor lies like a dog, as we say in the poetic South, it adds insult to injury. As in: you must think I'm stupid to tell me an idiotic whopper like that!
I grew up, to some degree, with lies. Like when my dad accidentally backed into someone else's car. He thought no one saw him so he admonished us: "Don't tell your mom; it will only upset her!" I think what he should have told us was: the truth will find you out eventually so honesty is the best policy!" As it turned out, dad's little car snafu happened in front of an apartment full of geriatric old ladies who had nothing better to do than spy out the window and one of these watchers took down dad's license plate number. When mom got a phone call out of the blue from an insurance company, she wasn't a little upset... Ha! She was hot enough to set the Thames on fire!!! Really, looking back, I should have thanked dad for that object lesson about the value of honesty! When the blistered paint finally fell from the ceiling of our living room - well, I might be exaggerating a tad - anyway, by the time it was over all three of us kids had a healthy respect for telling the truth and we all understood the difference between "a little upset" and .. um..."ballistic".
Since deceit was typical of my parent's relationship, you won't be surprised to learn that they eventually divorced. That's the other thing about dealing in lies and deceit - it kills trust which is vital to any major relationship. How many times have you heard someone say, "They've lied to me so many times, I don't know if I can trust a single word they say!"
If you've read this blog more than once, by now you know that I consider my relationship with God the most important one that I have. I'm pretty unapologetic about that:) So... what if God were a liar? Or what if He endorsed lies "for a good cause"? Can I expect less of Him than I would from my parent, my spouse, my best friend, or my child? Can I possibly believe that He has less intelligence and less integrity than a mere human being, like, say, my dad who believed that a little lie for a "good cause" was okay? Or a few of my teens in school who believed a lie was the best way out of a dilemma? Can I really believe that God can't see the end from the beginning, that He thinks the weed will never fall out of the pocket, the insurance company will never call and the fat will never hit the fan?
My grandfather, W. W. Hammons, was an honest man. He had integrity and everyone in his community knew it.
These were his favorite verses in the Bible:
"Let not your hearts be troubled. "Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way where I am going."
Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?"
Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you had known me, you would have known my father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him."
John 14:1-7
When I was 8 years old, I became a Christian. When I was in college I began to study the Bible.
I'm almost 60 years old and I haven't caught Him in a lie yet....
"Let not your heart be troubled. "Believe in God; believe also in me..."
If you don't know Jesus but are willing to openly consider His claims, this could be the greatest Christmas you've ever had, bar none. If you are tired of deceit, go to the book of John and prayerfully read it, asking God to show you the truth.
He won't steer you wrong.
Like the time I caught a student with a cheat sheet as long as Santa's Christmas list, lying in her lap, mostly covered by a sweater. When I took up both the cheat sheet and her test, she looked at me with wide-eyed innocence and said, "I heard something rustling under my sweater but, honest, I thought it was the potato chip bag that I bought at lunch..." Seriously???
Or the time that I saw a student put something in his pocket which I erroneously thought was candy. Skittles to be exact - little sugar coated pellets that someone had been secretly throwing in my classroom during that particular class period. I insisted the kid hand me what was in his pocket and he insisted that his pocket was empty. I persisted until finally he reluctantly emptied his "empty" pocket and out came a small plastic bag of weed. I don't know who was more shocked - the kid who got "busted" or me! As one of my other students told me later, "Well.. at least he didn't have candy..." :)
The problem with lying is that sooner or later, someone's going to look like a fool. Either the person who believed the lie or the person who told the lie and then got caught - and sometimes both. And when someone looks you right in the face and with wide-eyed candor lies like a dog, as we say in the poetic South, it adds insult to injury. As in: you must think I'm stupid to tell me an idiotic whopper like that!
If you've read this blog more than once, by now you know that I consider my relationship with God the most important one that I have. I'm pretty unapologetic about that:) So... what if God were a liar? Or what if He endorsed lies "for a good cause"? Can I expect less of Him than I would from my parent, my spouse, my best friend, or my child? Can I possibly believe that He has less intelligence and less integrity than a mere human being, like, say, my dad who believed that a little lie for a "good cause" was okay? Or a few of my teens in school who believed a lie was the best way out of a dilemma? Can I really believe that God can't see the end from the beginning, that He thinks the weed will never fall out of the pocket, the insurance company will never call and the fat will never hit the fan?
My grandfather, W. W. Hammons, was an honest man. He had integrity and everyone in his community knew it.
These were his favorite verses in the Bible:
"Let not your hearts be troubled. "Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way where I am going."
Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?"
Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you had known me, you would have known my father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him."
John 14:1-7
When I was 8 years old, I became a Christian. When I was in college I began to study the Bible.
I'm almost 60 years old and I haven't caught Him in a lie yet....
"Let not your heart be troubled. "Believe in God; believe also in me..."
If you don't know Jesus but are willing to openly consider His claims, this could be the greatest Christmas you've ever had, bar none. If you are tired of deceit, go to the book of John and prayerfully read it, asking God to show you the truth.
He won't steer you wrong.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Calvin, Grandma, and Running the Race...
I love Calvin and Hobbes and rue the day their creator, Bill Watterson, decided to quit doing the comic strip. Granted, Calvin was well on his way to reform school... but still no one could deny that he was a very bright as well as a very funny little criminal-in-the-making! And, thankfully, Calvin had Hobbes to keep him in check when the kid got too out of hand, which was often.
One of the reasons that Watterson gave for quitting the series was that he felt he had taken the cartoon as far as he could, that he had reached the limit of what he could do with it.
My grandmother would have understood that! (No, I'm not referring to the fact that sometimes she reached her limit with me... although I know she did on more than one occasion...) My mother used to tell me that Grandma never went to Sunday school while she (mom) was growing up. The reason? She felt she didn't need Sunday school; she only needed a little fine-tuning via a sermon or two each week. In other words, she'd studied the Bible lessons enough already! And didn't need those quarterly lesson books anymore!
I loved my grandmother but she didn't grow much. Physically or spiritually. She was a little under 5 feet tall when I knew her - which sometimes made riding in a car with her an exhilarating experience. Especially when I could see on-coming traffic and... she couldn't... (This never worried her! She simply carved out the middle of the highway as her province, drove 30 miles an hour regardless of the traffic signs and grumbled that if anyone didn't like the way she drove, they could get out of the way. And get out of the way, they did! Trust me!)
Spiritually, my grandmother could be a bit of a mess. She routinely insulted people (even my friends) and stirred up trouble, even in the church. She was, um, manipulative, to say the least. Sometimes I wonder what she would have been like if she had kept on growing spiritually and not just been content to sit back and hear a sermon now and then, which she didn't hesitate to criticize, I might add.
And I personally think all that is good.
But I would like to suggest something else, along those lines but still.. a bit different.
I would like to suggest that we start doing spiritual calisthenics in our early years and continue this routine on into our twilight years. Biblical "stretching" exercises come in a variety of ways but they all have the same goal - to tone our faith muscles.
Have you ever wondered why God makes promises and then doesn't answer them right away? Why doesn't He just tell us what He's going to do (in answer to our prayers, etc) and then simply do it? Why do we sometimes have to keep asking, keep seeking, keep knocking? And why, once He has shown us what He plans to do, should we have to keep hanging onto that promise for what seems like eons while the Heavens are seemingly like brass? Why do we have to keep going back to Him saying, "Lord, you promised... but I just don't see..."I think part of the answer is simple. God wants us to exercise.
Searching out promises in His word and holding onto them develops our spiritual heart muscles, as it were, and strengthens our "faith vision". (For we walk by faith, not by sight... II Cor. 5:7)
So, in anticipation of the right-on-the-horizon new year ahead, I've tuned into the ancient book of Hebrews to formulate a spiritual work-out plan for the next 12 months.
1. Motivation! Each day I'd like to wake up remembering that I am surrounded by a gallery of Olympic Faith Walkers who have finished their race and who are cheering me on, marking my progress. (12:1)2. Warm-up! Each morning I'd like to limber up by stripping off every weight, including my pet sins, that weigh me down and encumber me as I get ready to jog. (Maybe singing some version of "Gonna wash that sin right out of my life..!." Groan... Well, I never said I was musical!) (12:1)
3. Positions! This may seem like a given... But I can find myself at the wrong starting gate.. .airport gate.. ticket gate... meeting place... check-out lane... you name it! Even the wrong white Malibu on the right parking lot... :( So this year I want to make sure that I am set to run the particular race that God has for me to run. I don't want to find myself hobbling along, trying to run the race that He actually designed for my neighbor. I want to find the lane He has for me and faithfully stay in it. (12:1)4. Run! The writer of Hebrews said to run with endurance... Not pizzaz. Just endurance. And then he tells us how to do this which leads to the next item.
5. Focus! To run my race, day in and day out, I need to keep my eyes focused on Jesus, the One who waits for me at the end of the course, the One who lives to intercede on my behalf, and the One who is the author and finisher of my faith course.
Finally - and this is the last part of my daily workout plan for 2013 - I want to read through the Bible at my own pace and in a "comfortable" version (The New Living Translation), specifically looking for and writing down promises that God gives to His children. Not all the promises in the Bible are meant for everyone. I get that. And many of the promises in Scripture are conditional. I get that as well. In fact, I understand that the conditions are very important.
But this is the deal. God gives us promises in order to stretch our faith. They are like stations along a life-long marathon race, markers along the way to encourage us and strengthen us.To get myself going on this program, I started today actually. I'm reading in Hebrews right now obviously and so on an index card this is what I wrote down:
Dec. 11, 2013
Hebrews 10:32-36
A. Situation: New believers are going through great difficulty and heartache which is undeserved.
B. Conditions they need to meet: They are to endure patiently and not let the faith muscle they've already built up atrophy. They are to hang onto their joy.
C. Promise: They will be able to continue to do God's will and someday they will receive everything God has told them He will bless them with.
I know not every passage has a promise in it. But my goal this year is to spend a little time each day reading through the NLT, looking for promises and writing them down. And if I'm only half way through when Jan. 2014 rolls around, that's okay. My goal is not to finish the Bible but to get out there in my "lane", stretch my faith muscles, and walk/run the race God has for me with endurance while a multitude of Faith-ers cheer me on and my Beloved Savior encourages me from the finish line.
If you don't have any other spiritual game plan formulated for the new year, I hope you'll join me.
See you at the finish line!
Sunday, December 9, 2012
My Savior Has My Treasure...
I wanted to participate in a flash mob "dance" for non-dancers :) at a Christmas party. Instead, I found myself walking down the street for a little exercise with a cane in one hand, just "in case", wishing both my knees would quit hurting. The thought of surgery - any surgery - on any part of my body :) is terrifying to me. (The thought of going to Africa on a mission trip sounds awesome to me but just walking into a doctor's office fills me with dread. Not to mention dealing with insurance). So contemplating problems with not just one knee but with both, is, to say the least, daunting for me. Most days I don't even want to acknowledge it, let alone discuss it.
Sometimes, honestly, I just feel super anxious about this whole getting-older thing. Yet I love this time of life and if it weren't for the the fact that my outer man is slowly decaying, I would say this is the best time of my life. Period. I love the fact that I can rock babies in the nursery on Sun. morning and not feel like I have to be in the service soaking up strength to face a tough week. (I miss the pastor's sermons and the music but I have time to listen to podcasts, pray and just sit and soak before Him through the week without feeling hurried. So I don't come into the morning worship service feeling in desperate need of spiritual triage to get me through a tough work week as I used to do during my last years of teaching. That in itself is a great thing).
I love the fact that I don't know where God is going to take me next, that I'm serving in capacities that I never, in my wildest dreams ever anticipated. Like handing out food at Healing Waters. Even though the volunteers are an unlikely mix, I thoroughly enjoyed putting pieces of cake on paper plates today while the woman next to me (who just lost her husband in May) sang Christmas music in a beautiful soprano voice. At one point I looked at her and said, "You must have sung solos for audiences." She nodded and smiled and kept on singing, kept on putting green beans and pasta on the plates before handing them to me as if this were her main talent - ladling food for the poor. Later I told her that I thought it was amazing that she is so recently widowed and yet she can sing and serve. Again, she just smiled and said, "I just have a different life now." I know I can learn from her and from so many others whom God is bringing into my life at this time. I'm constantly amazed at how He does that.
Like standing out in a neighbor's yard last night while Phil, who serves all the time regardless of his schedule, put a battery in our friend's car. Her husband is very sick and may not be able to continue to take their child to school if the doctors don't figure out what is wrong with him and soon. And there I was, able to offer to take her child to school or pick him up, if it's ever needed. Being available to do things like that brings joy to my heart.
And then there's the icing on the cake - like getting to take my niece to school when we both "need" a McDonald's breakfast to jump start our day. These are sweet times for me because soon she will be away at college. If I weren't retired, I wouldn't have these opportunities.
Even putting up Christmas decorations - it used to seem like such a chore. And then after it was done, I sometimes couldn't totally enjoy them because in the back of my mind was the knowledge that what goes up, must come down. Often, right after Christmas, I would take everything down so that my last week of Christmas break would be as stress free as possible. Last year, however, I left my decorations up for about a week after Christmas simply because... I could! :) Because I wasn't under the gun to squeeze every ounce of relaxation out of my break before getting "back into the saddle again".
There are so many things about retirement that I absolutely love.
But there is one thing I fear. And that is being a terrible witness for Christ as I deal with the down side of growing older. Pain comes. To many it comes early, way too early. I've seen children and teens handle illness with aplomb. But I'm not sure I can do the same. Fear of what may come. Fear of how I might let my Savior down dogs my steps some days when both knees hurt and I see others my age going through one surgery after another.
This is something I don't want to do; I don't want to be a terrible witness. Yet, I know that even on good days, my witness can be less than stellar... by a long shot...
I've read that when Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ, was terminally ill and people would ask him how he wanted them to pray for him, he would respond the same way every time: "Please pray that I would not lose my first love for Christ." What an awesome prayer!
Selfishly, I would ask as I go further into the growing-older thing (for as long as God allows me to do so), that others would pray that my love for Christ would grow deeper and my faith stronger. And that I would continue to experience the joy of anticipation, the freedom of following Christ - without undue concern over the natural consequences of aging. Even just to have the privilege of growing older is a gift and some days I forget that.
Many years ago, when I was in my twenties, I memorized the words to a song, In Heavenly Love Abiding, and one stanza spoke volumes to me then and still does now, still resides in my memory after all these years.
"Green pastures are before me which yet I have not seen
Bright skies will soon be o'er me where the dark clouds have been.
My hope I cannot measure/ my path to life is free,
My Savior has my treasure and He will walk with me."
Sometimes, honestly, I just feel super anxious about this whole getting-older thing. Yet I love this time of life and if it weren't for the the fact that my outer man is slowly decaying, I would say this is the best time of my life. Period. I love the fact that I can rock babies in the nursery on Sun. morning and not feel like I have to be in the service soaking up strength to face a tough week. (I miss the pastor's sermons and the music but I have time to listen to podcasts, pray and just sit and soak before Him through the week without feeling hurried. So I don't come into the morning worship service feeling in desperate need of spiritual triage to get me through a tough work week as I used to do during my last years of teaching. That in itself is a great thing).
I love the fact that I don't know where God is going to take me next, that I'm serving in capacities that I never, in my wildest dreams ever anticipated. Like handing out food at Healing Waters. Even though the volunteers are an unlikely mix, I thoroughly enjoyed putting pieces of cake on paper plates today while the woman next to me (who just lost her husband in May) sang Christmas music in a beautiful soprano voice. At one point I looked at her and said, "You must have sung solos for audiences." She nodded and smiled and kept on singing, kept on putting green beans and pasta on the plates before handing them to me as if this were her main talent - ladling food for the poor. Later I told her that I thought it was amazing that she is so recently widowed and yet she can sing and serve. Again, she just smiled and said, "I just have a different life now." I know I can learn from her and from so many others whom God is bringing into my life at this time. I'm constantly amazed at how He does that.
Like standing out in a neighbor's yard last night while Phil, who serves all the time regardless of his schedule, put a battery in our friend's car. Her husband is very sick and may not be able to continue to take their child to school if the doctors don't figure out what is wrong with him and soon. And there I was, able to offer to take her child to school or pick him up, if it's ever needed. Being available to do things like that brings joy to my heart.
And then there's the icing on the cake - like getting to take my niece to school when we both "need" a McDonald's breakfast to jump start our day. These are sweet times for me because soon she will be away at college. If I weren't retired, I wouldn't have these opportunities.
Even putting up Christmas decorations - it used to seem like such a chore. And then after it was done, I sometimes couldn't totally enjoy them because in the back of my mind was the knowledge that what goes up, must come down. Often, right after Christmas, I would take everything down so that my last week of Christmas break would be as stress free as possible. Last year, however, I left my decorations up for about a week after Christmas simply because... I could! :) Because I wasn't under the gun to squeeze every ounce of relaxation out of my break before getting "back into the saddle again".
There are so many things about retirement that I absolutely love.
But there is one thing I fear. And that is being a terrible witness for Christ as I deal with the down side of growing older. Pain comes. To many it comes early, way too early. I've seen children and teens handle illness with aplomb. But I'm not sure I can do the same. Fear of what may come. Fear of how I might let my Savior down dogs my steps some days when both knees hurt and I see others my age going through one surgery after another.
This is something I don't want to do; I don't want to be a terrible witness. Yet, I know that even on good days, my witness can be less than stellar... by a long shot...
I've read that when Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ, was terminally ill and people would ask him how he wanted them to pray for him, he would respond the same way every time: "Please pray that I would not lose my first love for Christ." What an awesome prayer!
Selfishly, I would ask as I go further into the growing-older thing (for as long as God allows me to do so), that others would pray that my love for Christ would grow deeper and my faith stronger. And that I would continue to experience the joy of anticipation, the freedom of following Christ - without undue concern over the natural consequences of aging. Even just to have the privilege of growing older is a gift and some days I forget that.
Many years ago, when I was in my twenties, I memorized the words to a song, In Heavenly Love Abiding, and one stanza spoke volumes to me then and still does now, still resides in my memory after all these years.
"Green pastures are before me which yet I have not seen
Bright skies will soon be o'er me where the dark clouds have been.
My hope I cannot measure/ my path to life is free,
My Savior has my treasure and He will walk with me."
Friday, December 7, 2012
A True American???
Sometimes I get tired of convoluted thinking. My own and also others.
I recently heard someone giving the pros and cons of increasing taxes on the rich. The speaker said that some believe the rich work hard to build up their businesses and so they deserve to invest their profits in whatever way they see fit without being heavily taxed. On the other hand, some people believe that a true American would want to share their wealth with the poor.
A true American....
I looked for that concept in the Declaration of Independence, in the Constitution and in the Bill of Rights but if the definition "A true American = someone who gives their wealth to the poor" was in those documents, I missed it.
I'm sorry I did. Even more to the point, had I known this 30 years ago, it would have come in handy. Coming from a single parent family, living on food stamps, ensconced in a single-wide mobile home, I think we might have qualified for "poor". At the time, however, I didn't realize the rich owed me anything. I grew up hearing that America was a land of opportunity and when the opportunity came to work my way through college, I didn't know any better so I took it. As soon as my brother and I got through working our way through school, we both went to work and started supporting our mother so she wouldn't need food stamps. When her health improved enough that she could work, she became a substitute teacher in Pulaski county. Her job was just a tad difficult... but she kept at it and worked for 10 years in spite of a chronic heart condition.
Which leads me to another definition that I have been pondering: what is "poor"?
We have worked with the "less fortunate" off and on throughout our married life and we've always received a blessing in one way or another for doing so. But if you've ever worked or visited a Salvation Army place or even become involved with a needy family in your area, you'll find that they don't all fall at your feet and express gratitude. Many are grateful but some are, quite frankly, demanding. Whiny... Even unpleasant and rude.
Also, over the years as we've participated in various ministries, I've noticed that a gathering of "poor people" in America looks somewhat different from say, a gathering of poor people in Africa or Asia... Quite a bit different actually. For one thing, the majority of the poverty stricken individuals I've seen here (and granted - my experience is very limited) don't have that emaciated look that you find in Uganda. For another, I have the impression that if you give food, any food, to a needy person in India, they don't throw it away... They eat it. We've given food to poor kids in our area and seen them toss it because it wasn't sweet enough. We've bought new shoes for kids in our neighborhood and seen them destroy them, literally, because they weren't exactly what they wanted.
Frankly, to many Americans, Phil and I would be lower middle class at best and to some we would be upper lower class, whatever that means. Put simply, I know that most (if not all) of our friends have more property, more possessions and more wealth on hand than we do. In many cases, a lot more than we do. So by American standards, some would consider us poor.
Yet we own our house (small though it is), three cars (which mostly run:), two computers, two televisions (which I consider to be one too many), three cell phones and a land line, a ton of books, a ton of tools, central heating and air, 4 dogs (3 too many..), hot and cold running water, a membership at Sam's, a washer and a dryer, and have more food in our pantry and our fridge right now than most third world families would see in a week if not a month.
My point is this: we have given to the poor and will continue to do so. Not because we are rich. And not because it is in the constitution. And not even because the poor are always pleasant (and/or deserving).
We give because the Bible enjoins us to give.
II Cor. 8:1-5 puts it this way:
8 And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. 2 In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. 3 For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, 4 they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. 5 And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us.
And the reason for giving?
9 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.
There are many passages in Scripture that require us to consider not just our own needs but also the needs of others, to give not just of our possessions but also of ourselves - our time and our energy. (See the book of James for example...)
And the reason is always the same -
We give because He gives...
We love because He loves...
So I don't think there is anything that says a "true American" who is wealthy has to give their wealth to the poor. But I don't see any way a true Christian cannot share what they have, be it a lot or even a little, with others in need.
So, going back to where I started this blog - I would have to say that even though I might be considered "poor" by some, I'm not for continually upping the ante on the rich via capital gains taxes.
I am, quite simply, for the way of Christ. Love that overflows, not out of our wealth but out of His and generates a smile, not always from the poor, but always from Him.
I recently heard someone giving the pros and cons of increasing taxes on the rich. The speaker said that some believe the rich work hard to build up their businesses and so they deserve to invest their profits in whatever way they see fit without being heavily taxed. On the other hand, some people believe that a true American would want to share their wealth with the poor.
A true American....
I looked for that concept in the Declaration of Independence, in the Constitution and in the Bill of Rights but if the definition "A true American = someone who gives their wealth to the poor" was in those documents, I missed it.
I'm sorry I did. Even more to the point, had I known this 30 years ago, it would have come in handy. Coming from a single parent family, living on food stamps, ensconced in a single-wide mobile home, I think we might have qualified for "poor". At the time, however, I didn't realize the rich owed me anything. I grew up hearing that America was a land of opportunity and when the opportunity came to work my way through college, I didn't know any better so I took it. As soon as my brother and I got through working our way through school, we both went to work and started supporting our mother so she wouldn't need food stamps. When her health improved enough that she could work, she became a substitute teacher in Pulaski county. Her job was just a tad difficult... but she kept at it and worked for 10 years in spite of a chronic heart condition.
Which leads me to another definition that I have been pondering: what is "poor"?
We have worked with the "less fortunate" off and on throughout our married life and we've always received a blessing in one way or another for doing so. But if you've ever worked or visited a Salvation Army place or even become involved with a needy family in your area, you'll find that they don't all fall at your feet and express gratitude. Many are grateful but some are, quite frankly, demanding. Whiny... Even unpleasant and rude.
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Also, over the years as we've participated in various ministries, I've noticed that a gathering of "poor people" in America looks somewhat different from say, a gathering of poor people in Africa or Asia... Quite a bit different actually. For one thing, the majority of the poverty stricken individuals I've seen here (and granted - my experience is very limited) don't have that emaciated look that you find in Uganda. For another, I have the impression that if you give food, any food, to a needy person in India, they don't throw it away... They eat it. We've given food to poor kids in our area and seen them toss it because it wasn't sweet enough. We've bought new shoes for kids in our neighborhood and seen them destroy them, literally, because they weren't exactly what they wanted. Frankly, to many Americans, Phil and I would be lower middle class at best and to some we would be upper lower class, whatever that means. Put simply, I know that most (if not all) of our friends have more property, more possessions and more wealth on hand than we do. In many cases, a lot more than we do. So by American standards, some would consider us poor.
Yet we own our house (small though it is), three cars (which mostly run:), two computers, two televisions (which I consider to be one too many), three cell phones and a land line, a ton of books, a ton of tools, central heating and air, 4 dogs (3 too many..), hot and cold running water, a membership at Sam's, a washer and a dryer, and have more food in our pantry and our fridge right now than most third world families would see in a week if not a month.
My point is this: we have given to the poor and will continue to do so. Not because we are rich. And not because it is in the constitution. And not even because the poor are always pleasant (and/or deserving).
We give because the Bible enjoins us to give.
II Cor. 8:1-5 puts it this way:
8 And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. 2 In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. 3 For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, 4 they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. 5 And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us.
And the reason for giving?
9 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.
There are many passages in Scripture that require us to consider not just our own needs but also the needs of others, to give not just of our possessions but also of ourselves - our time and our energy. (See the book of James for example...)
And the reason is always the same -
We give because He gives...
We love because He loves...
So I don't think there is anything that says a "true American" who is wealthy has to give their wealth to the poor. But I don't see any way a true Christian cannot share what they have, be it a lot or even a little, with others in need.
So, going back to where I started this blog - I would have to say that even though I might be considered "poor" by some, I'm not for continually upping the ante on the rich via capital gains taxes.
I am, quite simply, for the way of Christ. Love that overflows, not out of our wealth but out of His and generates a smile, not always from the poor, but always from Him.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Taking the Turns Right Along With Me...
Phil and I like the movie, Driving Miss Daisy. In one scene, Miss Daisy and the Chauffeur are on a trip and they get lost. She gets upset and blames the driver. He responds with something like, "Why, Miss Daisy... You took the turns right along with me!"
After over a quarter of a century of marriage, Phil and I sometimes look at each other and say, "Thanks for taking the turns right along with me..."
I really am grateful that God has given Phil to me and allowed us to take a lot of "corners" together. Sometimes we knew exactly what we were doing; probably most of the time we didn't. If we co-authored a marriage manual, it would probably be titled, "Marriage: Flying by the Seat of Your Pants," or "Marriage: What Not to Do."
When we married I was several dress sizes smaller than I am now. I can remember shortly after we exchanged vows, standing on his feet -one of my feet on top of one of his - while he danced me around the room. Now, if we tried that, he wouldn't have any arches left.
I loved dresses and sandals and jewelry 26 years ago. It's been a while since problems with my feet led to wearing jogging shoes year round which lead to wearing slacks year round which cut down on my desire for jewelry as sparkly things don't go with combat looking jogging shoes and perpetual slacks.
When we married, we loved to walk and/or jog through the neighborhood. I remember during our first years of marriage, when we came home from Sunday night service, Phil would let our dog, Rascal, out of the house and then start running around the house with Rascal hot on his heels. The thing about Rascal was that he lacked common sense. So Phil would put distance between himself and this idiotic dog until there was enough lag time between them. And then, when Rascal was just around the corner and out of Phil's sight, my husband would jump on the front porch, flatten himself against the side of the house and stay there, silently watching Rascal looping the house: once, twice, and sometimes three times before he'd realize that something wasn't right.
At first this game worried me. What would the neighbors, especially the retired couple next door, think? When I couldn't talk Phil into quitting this Sunday night routine, one evening I threw up my hands and joined him! So there we were, after the evening service, all three of us looping around the house, two of us trying to outwit the third who happened to be a dog.
Now when we come home on Sunday morning, Phil carries my Bible bag for me and when we go walking down the street for exercise, I carry a cane sometimes - mostly for discouraging stray dogs from following after us but not completely. He's always been more than willing to carry my book bag into and out of church but my bright pink bags or the ones with floral designs were a little off-putting to him. So I got a hefty, tweed-looking book bag from Barnes and Nobles and for the most part, he's satisfied with that, feels his manly image is untarnished... :) Twenty-six years ago, I never envisioned him having to carry my book bag to church or me walking with a cane because the weather is changing and my knee is, as my grandmother would say, "telling me a story."
Sometimes I look in the mirror and would love to have that thirty-something, younger person staring back at me once again. At those times, I often turn to Phil and thank him for taking the turns right along with me. He usually responds by saying the same thing back to me. Thank you for taking the turns right along with me.
This weekend, to my surprise he responded a little differently. Instead of the usual Miss Daisy quote, he said, "Cathy, I couldn't imagine being married to anyone who loved the Lord less than you do..."
Twenty-six years ago, we were an unlikely pair and maybe some (like my mother...:) didn't think we'd make it. But we knew God had brought us together and that has made all the difference in the world.
Monday, December 3, 2012
When Sandwiches Seem Human...Sort of...
Today I was putting two oval shaped pickles on a slice of white bread - the first step towards making a turkey sandwich, when it struck me that the pickles on bread with a streak of mustard underneath sort of (only sort of, mind you) looked like a face. Maybe not a happy face but still, a face.
And that about sums up my morning... :)
The weirdness actually started yesterday. Last night I was looking for my study Bible under the front car seats. (And as I re-read that sentence, I realize that's a bit strange in and of itself). Then I realized I didn't carry it to church yesterday morning; I carried a different Bible. So I looked through the house once again but no luck. Then this morning, still no study Bible. How can you lose a study Bible??? It's so heavy Phil usually carries it into church for me and I think I may have heard a sotto voice comment or two about getting a backpack on wheels or something of that nature... I mean, we're not talking a pocket New Testament here.
So I went on to church where I do volunteer work for a couple of hours on Mondays. This morning the new scanner thing that I use - well, it wouldn't work. I used all my persuasive charm but the scanner resisted to the bitter end and I had to drag out the old R2D2 model and use it. I got so frustrated that at one point, I'm talking to the "new" scanner as in, "Give me a break! Come on! All I need is for you to work two measly hours! Is that asking too much?" So I'm talking to a scanner right there in the church office, willing the recalcitrant thing to start beeping!!! And then, belatedly, I look over my shoulder to see if any of the staff heard me... Ha! I'll know, I guess, if there is a special prayer meeting called in my honor...
Anyway, after fruitlessly hunting for my study Bible and then talking trash to the church scanner, I went to Subway and as soon as I walked in the door, I found myself at the end of a long line. Subway is never that busy! But it was today...So I turned right around and eventually meandered my way home where suddenly I found myself looking at my sandwich-in-the-making thinking, "Am I turning into Salvador Dali or does that slice of bread-with-pickles really (sort of) look like a face?"
Honestly, if there is a moral to this story, I wouldn't know what it is.
Only that there are just some days that are weird and this is one of them.
And on those days, laughter is not a choice - it is a necessity...:)
And that about sums up my morning... :)
The weirdness actually started yesterday. Last night I was looking for my study Bible under the front car seats. (And as I re-read that sentence, I realize that's a bit strange in and of itself). Then I realized I didn't carry it to church yesterday morning; I carried a different Bible. So I looked through the house once again but no luck. Then this morning, still no study Bible. How can you lose a study Bible??? It's so heavy Phil usually carries it into church for me and I think I may have heard a sotto voice comment or two about getting a backpack on wheels or something of that nature... I mean, we're not talking a pocket New Testament here.
So I went on to church where I do volunteer work for a couple of hours on Mondays. This morning the new scanner thing that I use - well, it wouldn't work. I used all my persuasive charm but the scanner resisted to the bitter end and I had to drag out the old R2D2 model and use it. I got so frustrated that at one point, I'm talking to the "new" scanner as in, "Give me a break! Come on! All I need is for you to work two measly hours! Is that asking too much?" So I'm talking to a scanner right there in the church office, willing the recalcitrant thing to start beeping!!! And then, belatedly, I look over my shoulder to see if any of the staff heard me... Ha! I'll know, I guess, if there is a special prayer meeting called in my honor...
Anyway, after fruitlessly hunting for my study Bible and then talking trash to the church scanner, I went to Subway and as soon as I walked in the door, I found myself at the end of a long line. Subway is never that busy! But it was today...So I turned right around and eventually meandered my way home where suddenly I found myself looking at my sandwich-in-the-making thinking, "Am I turning into Salvador Dali or does that slice of bread-with-pickles really (sort of) look like a face?"
Honestly, if there is a moral to this story, I wouldn't know what it is.
Only that there are just some days that are weird and this is one of them.
And on those days, laughter is not a choice - it is a necessity...:)
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