"We used to be embarrassed..."
That was the beginning of the comment from my oldest child, my only daughter, the mother of my grandchildren, regarding our unconventional living arrangements.

She went on to say, "...but then we were like 'YEAH!'" (insert FIST PUMP)

At the ripe old age of 42 my hubby and I moved back into the home we left in 1998, a home owned by my parents. Our children (and their children) came with us, combining two complete households into one home.

To date, we have four adults, two toddlers, one infant, and one teenager living here full-time. One young adult is here on the weekends, and the other YA... well, he just left the nest to become an over-the-road truck driver. Every few days someone asks, "when will E be back?" To which I shrug and say, "I have no idea." And then I go to my room and cry. But that's not the purpose of this post.

The purpose is to say:

Your life is your life. Do the best with it that you can, every day.

Every family is different. Every LIFE is different.
Your life does not have to look like the one your parents modeled for you, or your grandparents. Your life needs to look like the one you are living right now, and you need to be happy and content with it, whatever it is.

That might be a child-free life, or a multi-generational life, or an adoptive parent life, or a single-parent life, or a parent of pets life, or a single life, or ______________________? I clearly remember being shamed for having FOUR children... My mother felt shamed for having only ONE. There's shame available for having them too young, for having them too old, and for not having them at all. Quite simply, you can't win...

Being happy and content with your life is highly individualized. It might mean living in what looks like a commune. It might mean having $300K in debt toward a beautiful home in an expensive neighborhood in a trendy community. It might mean shucking it all and joining the Peace Corps (you have no idea how tempting that is at this stage of life) or sucking it up and taking that high-pressure corporate job with the luscious retirement package. It might mean moving back home to tend to aging parents, or living near (or even with) your ex for the sake of the kids, or moving closer to your children to help raise your grandchildren. The possibilities are endless.

For our family, it means that we're home during that "fussy hour" when babies and toddlers demand excessive attention while moms and dads are trying to wrap up their own days. It means when my daughter needs a sitter she doesn't have to pay for one. It means I get to watch my grandbabies grow on a day to day basis.

It also means I've been thrown back into diaper world, there are Legos on the floor when I traverse the living room at night to pee, and that I live in a weird limbo-land between raising babies and being a "free" adult. Is it worth it? For me, yes. For someone else, I don't know. And that's OK.

It's sad that in our modern culture—with its constant demands for acceptance and open-mindedness—we are still being judged for any household structure that differs from "the norm." (Where that norm came from, I don't know, but it needs to be tossed out with the trash.) In the Old Testament, the word "household" referred to the immediate family, the extended family, the hired help, and the livestock... it was all-inclusive. It should be so today.

Let's stop promoting shame and guilt when it comes to the households of our friends, family, and neighbors, and start promoting love... the unconditional kind.

With the horrific news of the theater shooting in Aurora, Colo., we're left asking those annoying, answerless questions yet again. My own sons were at a midnight premiere of "The Dark Knight" a few hundred miles west of the tragedy that unfolded in Aurora. I woke up at 2:30 a.m. to text them and ask for an ETA. (For the record, parenting teens is almost as sleep-depriving as parenting an infant... maybe worse.) News of the shooting had already reached my social networks, and I felt, as most do, helpless. Even praying feels inconsequential at such times, as we are bombarded with questions we cannot comfortably answer.

What would possess someone to do something so evil? 
Why would someone be so angry with total strangers? 
Can I protect myself, my family, from such senseless violence?


1. The "what" question is relatively simple... Evil exists in the earth, and is actively looking for people to manipulate and control and turn into monsters to do its bidding. Evil is hungry and greedy for victims. All those wounded and killed at the theater that night were victims of evil. And, though we'd rather pin him to the wall as evil incarnate, James Holmes is/was a pawn, nothing more, used by evil to destroy lives, including his own. In that sense, he's a victim, too.

2. Our world is becoming further and further removed from relationship. While we have more avenues for relationship than ever before, more ways to "connect" with one another, no matter our geographic location, yet many of our relationships are "fair-weather only." As long as our friends/associates/acquaintances are happy, cheerful, and content in our presence, online or off, that's good enough for us. But let someone become despondent, angry, or bitter, and we're quick to distance ourselves. Something was "up" with James Holmes, based on his recent personal history. Even his mother knew something was wrong. Did anyone reach out to him in the past months, or was he just another island unto himself? What if someone had stepped in? What if someone had knocked on his door weeks ago and asked him to go get a pizza, asked him if he was all right? It's not a guarantee that something could have been avoided or changed, but the "what if" remains.

3. One of the things we won't hear on the news are the people who opted NOT to go to that particular theater showing that night. We won't hear about the parents who "had a check" about letting their kids go and made those kids stay home instead. We won't hear about the people who changed their minds at the last minute, or were somehow delayed and missed the movie. Those testimonies (mostly unreported) are a sobering reminder of the need to be vigilant and on guard, always listening to that still, small voice on the inside as we go about our daily lives. I believe God will warn us, direct us, and show us a way of escape from the evil that is present in the earth, but we have to listen and obey. Sometimes that means changing our plans, sometimes it might mean social embarrassment, or inconvenience, or "missing out," but I believe direction is available.

Will we "miss it"? Probably. When we let our natural desires override that quiet witness. When we (more commonly) get so busy and are going, going, going so fast we don't take time to listen. When we start doing things out of obligation, not out of unconditional love. Yet even then, when we miss it, we can look to His mercy and grace to carry us through, providing supernatural comfort and peace in time of need. 

We will move on, and we will heal. That's part of life. Whether or not we learn anything from this latest round of violence remains to be seen. Will you reach out to that person at work, at school, at church or at the convenience store who seems to be having a hard time? Will you slow down and listen for personal direction about the little things, like going to the movies or the mall or the bar?

All that said, there's still no guarantee that life will continue into tomorrow for any of us, no matter what we do or don't do. The actions of others, a rogue wave at sea, a freak storm, a faulty wire, a loose rock on the side of a mountain road, a tsunami... any of the above could spell your unexpected demise. Again, a sobering thought, but also a freeing one. No one can decide where you will spend eternity except YOU. It has nothing to do with religion or labels, and everything to do with Jesus Christ, crucified and raised from the dead on the third day. What do you do with HIM? It's not about religion or labels or rules, it's about relationship. With Him.

Inkwell Inspirations: If the naked dude shows up, I'm outta here.: by Niki Turner Picture this: Jesus and the disciples have just crossed the Sea of Galilee. During their crossing, they experienced a st...

My son came home this week with an armload of gifts for our family, some from his work and some from church friends. I cried.


Then I got a message from a friend, thanking me for something I wrote a year ago and encouraging me to continue blogging and writing. I cried again.

For me, those unexpected gifts (Yes, I consider words of affirmation tangible gifts ... can you guess what my love language is?) are often the ones that mean the most. They become the gifts that stay with me well beyond the holiday season.

I wonder if that's how the shepherds felt when the angel appeared and announced the arrival of the Savior of the world? Surprised, blessed, humbled, grateful...

I read something last week that shattered my image of the Easter story.

Countless illustrations had generated a picture in my mind of Jesus on a cross that was raised high into the air,  elevated so far above ground level the Roman soldier who pierced His side with a spear would have to reach overhead to stab the Son of God.

Crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, by Marco Palmezzano (Uffizi, Florence), painting ca. 1490

I had an out-of-reach Jesus, vicariously paying the price for my sin.
And then I read this (read all the way through!):

Despite the fact that the ancient Jewish historian Josephus, as well as other sources, refers to the crucifixion of thousands of people by the Romans, there is only a single archaeological discovery of a crucified body dating back to the Roman Empire around the time of Jesus. This was discovered in Jerusalem in 1968. It is not necessarily surprising that there is only one such discovery, because a crucified body was usually left to decay on the cross and therefore would not be preserved. The only reason these archaeological remains were preserved was because family members gave this particular individual a customary burial.

jmtimages via  PhotoRee

The remains were found accidentally in an ossuary with the crucified man’s name on it, 'Yehohanan, the son of Hagakol'.^[37][38] Nicu Haas, an anthropologist at the Hebrew University Medical School in Jerusalem, examined the ossuary and discovered that it contained a heel bone with a nail driven through its side, indicating that the man had been crucified. The position of the nail relative to the bone indicates that the feet had been nailed to the cross from their side, not from their front; various opinions have been proposed as to whether they were both nailed together to the front of the cross or one on the left side, one on the right side. The point of the nail had olive wood fragments on it indicating that he was crucified on a cross made of olive wood or on an olive tree. Since olive trees are not very tall, this would suggest that the condemned was crucified at eye level.

Maybe it's just me, but somehow that simple shift in mental imagery changes things. Suddenly, the price paid is even more personal. The love offered so freely through His sacrifice even more real.

When you picture the crucified One this Easter weekend, when you bring to mind all He has done to make the way into eternal life for everyone who believes, will He be lifted up out of reach? Just out of view?

Or will you let yourself look upon Him, face to face, eye to eye, and accept that what He did on Calvary, He did for you and me, personally, individually? He would have done the same -- endured that horrible, gruesome, execution -- if you or I were the only person on earth who would ever accept it by faith.

Don't let Him get out of sight this Easter. Because out of sight is too often out of mind.

I'm re-sharing an old post from 2010, because in light of all the vitriol and anger and rhetoric we've seen and heard this week, it's something to think about, and a good reminder that just because we call ourselves (and a lot of other stuff) "Christian," that doesn't make them so... 

Does more than one make you MORE Christian?

Bestselling author Anne Rice's recent Facebook announcement that she has "quit Christianity" garnered a deluge of media attention. After years as a self-avowed atheist followed by a public return to the faith of her childhood - Catholicism - Rice said she is done with organized religion. Her announcement incited a vitriolic stream of criticism from Christians questioning her salvation, her faith, and her morals.

To be perfectly honest, I totally understand where she's coming from. (Ducking now to avoid stones.)

If you've never encountered "friendly fire" in church - in the form of gossip, condemnation, oppression, legalism, rejection, etc. - count yourself among a very blessed minority. Let's face it, there are a lot of mean, hateful, hypocritical people sitting in pews and standing behind pulpits every week. Don't get me wrong, there are thousands - nay, millions - of people in churches who are loving, genuine, and kind, too. People who are earnestly seeking to be doers of the Word and not hearers only. Unfortunately, it's the spiteful, critical ones who tend to have the loudest mouths, carry the biggest picket signs, and make the most damaging waves. And they are usually the first ones to stand up and call themselves the true defenders of Christianity.
But what is it that makes one a Christian? Is it a Jesus fish car emblem? A shiny gold cross? A church membership card? Which version of the Bible you read? The kind of music you listen to, the clothes you wear, your hair length, or the movies you watch? Is the evidence of your faith limited to the Thomas Kincade lithograph on your wall?

The bigger the cross???

Most of us, if we have any understanding of the Gospel, are quick to say "no." Christianity is based solely on our belief in the Lord Jesus Christ as the Son of God, who accepted the price of all the sin of humanity and suffered the consequences for us in his death on the cross, and then was raised from the dead by the power of God, having paid our debt so that we can be set free. All we have to do, according to Romans 10:9-10, is confess with our mouths the Lord Jesus and believe in our hearts that God has raised Him from the dead. And we will be Christians.

Right? Not exactly. Romans 10:10 actually says "you will be saved."

So where did the Christian label come from? Jesus never called anyone Christians. He didn't say, "I'm starting a new religion, and I shall call it Christianity, after Myself."

Christian shows up in only three places in the Bible - Acts 11:26, Acts 26:28, and 1 Peter 4:16. A derivative of Christ (Greek for "Anointed One") the word Christian literally means "an adherent or follower of Jesus."
Here's the funny thing. Those early followers of Jesus didn't call themselves Christians. Acts 11:26 says "...and they were first called Christians at Antioch."

Get that? They were CALLED Christians, by other people. Jews and idolators and atheists and agnostics labeled them. Not just for what they professed, but for what they did. Throughout the book of Acts we see the followers of Jesus going out into all the known world and healing the sick, sending aid to victims of famine, helping widows and orphans, raising the dead, setting the oppressed free. Everywhere they went, they did the same things Jesus had done. They "went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil." They continued His mission without missing a beat. And the people around them saw Christ in them.


I want that. I want someone who has never known the love of God, never felt His healing power, never understood the depth of His mercy and grace, to encounter Him in me and say, "You must be a Christian" based on what I do, not just what I say.

I hesitate to say "I'm a writer." Any shmuck can declare him or herself to be a writer, but until someone else acknowledges what you do, it doesn't mean much. I can tell anyone I'm a wife. But if I don't do wife-stuff - or worse, if I do anti-wife stuff - haven't I claimed wifely status in vain?

 The third commandment given to the Hebrews when they came out of Egypt says this: "You shall not use or repeat the name of the Lord your God in vain [that is, lightly or frivolously, in false affirmations or profanely]; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain." Ex 20:7 AMP
Red Letters by Tom Davis

Imagine yourself at your ABSOLUTE worst. Stressed, angry, teetering on that narrow gauge rail between tears and rage. You're depressed, frustrated, frazzled, exhausted, and ready to quit and/or run away from home.
You might be a mom or a student, a small-business owner, a minister, or a volunteer. Nothing has turned out the way you expected. The answers to your prayers seem to be delivered to other people's houses. Your dreams for the future have slipped through your fingers like a mist. Even basic tasks seem to be too much to handle, but you slog along, day by day, trying to stay on top of the essentials like a circus performer balancing on a ball.

You're trying to be a good parent, a good spouse, a good Christian, a good worker, a good friend. The problem is no matter how hard you try, you never quite feel like you measure up, or some other demand arises and pulls at you from another direction. You're a hamster in a wheel, running faster and faster and never getting anywhere.

Now, imagine Jesus walking up to you in the midst of all that misery, pressure, and strife. He is the embodiment of LIFE - strong, healthy, relaxed, peaceful, bubbling over with joy, pure, honest, kind and loving. And here's what He says to you...

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

Jesus is not stressed out. 
Jesus is not panicking about the state of the economy.
Jesus is not worried about natural disasters, plagues, or politics.
There's no state of emergency in heaven. God is not looking over at Jesus, biting his nails and grinding his teeth, muttering, "What are we gonna do now?"
And instead of saying to us, "Do this new program. Try this new method for success. Work a little harder. Do a little more." Jesus says something unexpected (doesn't He always?). 

Oh. My. Stars. If you don't get all gooey inside at the idea of Jesus - King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace whose name is Faithful and True - saying that to you, your wood's wet. 

But how often, instead of going with Him,  letting him show us how to recover our lives, how to lay aside our worries and cares and burdens, we say, "Oh, thanks for the invitation, Jesus, but I'm so busy. You just don't understand. I've got so much I have to do, so many things to finish up today. In fact, I'm already running late. Gotta go, bye."

And we jump back in our hamster wheel and run ourselves even more ragged, until our bodies or minds start to break down and we can't run any more. Somehow I think Jesus would rather we come away with Him than spend our lives chasing the end of the wheel in a frightened, panicked, high-pressured hurry. 

The world - YOUR world - may be in a state of chaotic frenzy, but Jesus is waiting for you, hand extended, eyes shining with love, saying, "Come away with me."

I'm not even going to wait till I brush my teeth. I'm going. Are you?

It's been pretty warm around here. Not nearly as hot as the East coast this summer, but western Colorado's semi-arid climate literally sucks you dry. Forget to drink enough water and dehydration sets in fast.

During certain seasons of life it's easy to get spiritually dehydrated. Periods of intense stress (an ailing parent or child, marital problems, health issues, financial trouble, etc.), and times of transition (changing careers, moving, new parents, new empty nesters, home remodeling, puberty, menopause, college, etc.), are seasons of life that lend themselves to spiritual dehydration.

Symptom #1: Thirst and/or loss of appetite. Just like natural thirst, many of us don't recognize spiritual thirst anymore. We try to satisfy that vague sense of dissatisfaction with food, entertainment, or retail therapy.
I'm one of those people who hates to drink water. When water seems the most repulsive is when I need it the most. A loss of appetite for the things of God - His Word, prayer, worship, praise - is a pretty clear indicator you are spiritually thirsty.


Symptom #2: Fatigue, weakness or chills. Living in a perpetual state of fatigue and exhaustion is not normal. Seriously. Spiritual fatigue can show up as fear, apathy, withdrawal, isolation or susceptibility to temptation. Being "too tired" to do anything is ABNORMAL for believers! Feeling spiritually cold and insensitive is an indication you are probably dehydrated, though the enemy of our souls likes to tell us we're just "bad Christians" when we experience those symptoms. No, you aren't bad, you just need a drink!

Jesus talked about water and thirst and drinking a lot. He lived in a hot, arid climate. The people around Him  understood the importance of staying hydrated. Just getting enough water to survive was a major expenditure of time and energy. It was critical for survival, and Jesus wanted them (and us) to understand preventing spiritual dehydration is just as important.

On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him." By this he meant the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were later to receive. Up to that time the Spirit had not been given, since Jesus had not yet been glorified.

John 7:37-39 (from New International Version)

We don't have to suffer repeated bouts of Christian heatstroke if we'll stay hydrated, conscious that in certain seasons, it's important to drink more, not less. It figures that those times when we need to be spiritually hydrating ourselves the most are the times when we are the busiest, the most distracted, and the most likely to shuffle our relationship with God to the bottom of the to-do list.

If you are a believer, the Spirit of God lives within you and is a continual source of living water. You don't have to wait for rain, you have to tap in to the artesian well that is the life of God within you! I like these instructions from Act 3:19 in the Amplified:

So repent (change your mind and purpose); turn around and return [to God], that your sins may be erased (blotted out, wiped clean), that times of refreshing (of recovering from the effects of heat, of reviving with fresh air) may come from the presence of the Lord;

Repent? Think about it this way: If you were marching through the desert and getting dehydrated, and there was an oasis just behind you, wouldn't it make sense to run back to that oasis and get a drink? When and where was the last time and place you felt spiritually hydrated? In praise and worship? While reading your Bible? Praying? Fellowshipping with others? That's your oasis. Now change your mind and purpose: Make that oasis your number one priority.

Need a place to start? I've been listening to the following song, appropriately titled The Desert Song by Hillsong. Sing it through a few times, meditate on the lyrics. And let that river of Living Water in your spirit begin to flow freely with praise, with worship, with thanksgiving.

Here's to a well-hydrated week, no matter what season of life you're in right now!
GO GET A DRINK!


http://www.susanica.com/photo/30
http://www.eldoradosprings.com

I understand why the world doesn't like Christians. Sometimes I don't like us very much either.

Now before you get out the tar and feathers... none of us (Christians and non-Christians alike) are perfected yet. We all screw up royally - usually daily. Sometimes hourly. Some days I can't seem to open my mouth without shoving my foot in it. We aren't saved because we're well-behaved, we're saved because of the grace and mercy of our God who sent His Son to rescue us from destruction.

So it's disconcerting when we go out and act like even worse than the people we claim to "have one up on" in the race of life.


Fiction writers and movie directors have to create  suspended disbelief" in their art... pulling you into the characters and the story far enough that you'll shake off the fact that vampires not only don't sparkle in the sunlight, they don't even exist. But this isn't fiction. And it isn't a movie. People are desperate for something - anything - in which to place their hope and trust and faith. And when we tell them about God's goodness, and then turn around and behave badly, it creates confusion.

I'm not talking about those "bad" behaviors the Christian community is so quick to point accusatory, condemning fingers at within our own ranks, like drinking, or smoking, or body piercing and tattoos, short skirts, sleeveless blouses, "mixed bathing" (Christian-ese for going to a public pool), listening to secular music, seeing an R-rated movie, long hair on men and short hair on women, dating, dancing, or driving above the speed limit. (Depending on your own flavor of religiosity, you can fill in the blanks here with your own particular set of taboos, because we all have 'em, like the N.C. church that likes to burn Bibles.)



What I am concerned about are the behaviors that are outright contradictions of the message of Jesus.

The greatest commandment: Love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself.
or... "But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you."

Lately it seems many who profess to believe have become the ones doing the cursing (speaking evil of someone), the hating, the spiteful abusing and the persecuting.

It reminds me of a story in Luke 9...

"One day He sent messengers ahead to reserve rooms for them in a Samaritan village. But they were turned away! The people of the village refused to have anything to do with them because they were headed for Jerusalem." Luke 9:52-53 TLB

The Samaritans and the Jews didn't get along, and hadn't for centuries. They turned away the disciples (and Jesus) much the same way African-Americans were turned away from places of business in the South. Today we call it discrimination. And when it comes against us, whether for our color or our gender or our age, we get ticked. So did the disciples. (Human nature hasn't changed a bit since creation.)

"And when His disciples James and John saw this, they said, 'Lord do You want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them, just as Elijah did?' But He turned and rebuked them, and said,
'You do not know what manner of spirit you are of.'" Luke 9:54-55

Ouch. They were completely off base with their Master's calling and vision, and Jesus told them so.

B-b-b-b-ut... we want to sputter, they have a RIGHT to be angry. Those nasty Samaritans are unrighteous, and they treated us I mean, Jesus, like second-class citizens! We're right, after all, and they are wrong!

I don't think Jesus gave a rip about not being given a room in that village, but he did care about the heart condition of James and John. He cared about what was motivating them, because it wasn't the same spirit that motivated Him. They were motivated by petty anger, revenge, and selfishness, all masked with a self-righteous glaze of defending the Master's honor.

Jesus didn't seem to think He needed defending.


Then, or now. What He does need us to do is show the love of God to a broken, defeated, hopeless humanity through our words, our attitudes, our actions, and our behavior.



 

If you think of December 25th as Jesus' literal birthday (I don't want to argue with you about it, because what matters is that He was born, and 33-1/2 years later He died on a Roman cross, and God raised Him from the dead for the forgiveness of our sins) then approximately 2000 years ago, a very pregnant teen mom was slogging her way across Israel in... no, on, a Mustang. (Wouldn't that be the modern day version of a donkey?) Okay, maybe a Bronco, or a Pinto. You decide.

This is not a tale of honor and glamour. Even Brittney Spears' little sister and Sarah Palin's daughter became targets of criticism when they got pregnant and decided to go ahead and have their babies. Teen moms just don't get many kudos, and they never have.

Flip the pages of the story back a few chapters. Nine months, to be exact. Historians estimate that Mary was between 14 and 17 years old at the time, based on her betrothal and cultural traditions of the day. I picture her doing chores - making a bed, or sweeping the floor - maybe she's grumbling about it, as teenagers are wont to do, when an angel shows up with a God-gram (like a singing telegram, but with an angel for the delivery guy, instead of gorilla or a girl in a funny costume).

We have trouble with the angel-thing because we have, as a culture, separated ourselves from the reality of the supernatural realm as far as it concerns God, angels, and demons. But Mary was a Jewish girl. She'd been brought up believing, accepting, and expecting the reality of the supernatural. It's sad to say, but I think today's teenagers would be more likely to recognize a vampire or a zombie than an angel of the Lord.


Gabriel, in all his angelic splendor, shows up, strikes a pose, and says, in his big, booming angel voice, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."
Teenagers being teenagers, I'm guessing Mary slouched in her chair, or leaned on her broom, and shot  him the "look." The one that involves an eye roll, a slack lip, and an expression of supreme skepticism. (If you have self-esteem problems, stay away from teenagers, no matter how old you are.) Scripture says, "she was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be." Read it, and then and picture that reaction on some teeny-bopper you know.

Gabriel doesn't wait for Mary to start arguing. He says, "Don't be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus..." (Do you suppose this is where we get the sarcastic saying, "Don't do me any favors?" )
Mary knew what the angel said wasn't the equivalent of a winning lotto ticket or the world's largest Easter basket. An unmarried pregnant woman in those days was subject to punishment. The punishment for fornication and adultery was death.
O-kaaaaay. Put yourself in Mary's shoes, er... sandals. Angel brings a promise from God that, if you accept it, will likely result in humiliation, shame, broken relationships, and possibly death by stoning. We're not given any indication of Mary's pre-marital relationship with Joseph, whether they were "courting" or whether the marriage was arranged and they scarcely knew one another. Regardless, Mary knows if she accepts this "favor" from God, Joseph will have good reason to hate her. He'll have reason, according to Jewish law, not just to break their engagement, but to have her brought before the Sanhedrin for trial.

Teenage Mary looks the angel over. Thinks about what she believes. Acknowledges the One she's been brought up to trust implicitly for her every need and desire: Adonai, Jehovah, El Shaddai, and goes out on a faith limb.

She turns to the angel and says, "I am the Lord's servant... May it be to me as you have said."
That might be the boldest statement in scripture.

It ranks right up there with anything Abraham, Moses, Daniel, Peter, or Paul ever said. It's a statement of purely selfless faith. Note that: "self-less," not "selfish." How much did she know in advance? Did she understand all the prophecies? Did she realize God was about to accomplish a divine mystery through her? I don't know.

What I do know is that it takes great faith to grasp any of the promises of God - from salvation to healing to accepting a call to ministry - and say what Mary said... "be it unto me, according to Your word."

The promise is there for you. What do YOU say to it?

I'm still struggling to learn blog-etiquette and lingo. Remembering to go back and comment on comments, sharing, re-tweeting, reblogging, backlinks, trackbacks, etc. Blog awards, blog contests, blog giveaways. Yikes! Writing a blog post is the EASY part!
Every day I learn new information, find new themes, read new guidelines about blogging... The learning curve is steep, and there's no coasting! But I'm enjoying this new adventure in blog-world.
Last night I watched "Julie and Julia." I liked  the whole movie, and recommend it highly to anyone who hasn't seen it already. (Of course, when you live in a town with no movie theater and wait for things to come out on DVD, pretty much the rest of the planet has seen the movie twice by the time it gets to you.)
Anyway, Julie's excitement over getting a comment on her blog brought a smile to my face. I laughed out loud at her surprise when her friends pointed out she had readers outside of her immediate family. (I've been known to beg my children to read my latest post.) But my favorite part of the story was watching Julie, and Julia, find their passion--the thing that stirred their hearts with life and love and creativity.
Unfortunately, no matter what endeavor we undertake, sooner or later someone points out the "rules" of the game. This week, one of my 85 blog subscriptions included a list of good blogging rules. I opened it up, sincere in my desire to improve and read with a sinking heart things like "don't talk about yourself, no one wants to read about you"; "don't use free clip art for illustrations"; and "only write about things that interest your readers."
Um.

Yeah. I was tempted to post F-A-I-L in big letters on In Truer Ink.


It was a flashback to childhood when my love of ballet changed from hanging on the barre and making faces in the mirror, dressing up in scratchy pink tutus and learning to tie the ribbons on my first pair of "real" ballet slippers; to extra one-on-one pointe classes after regular class, contemplating ballet summer school in Aspen, and wondering how I could stay thin enough to look like the older girls.


And when I wanted to learn to ride a horse, which meant 7 a.m. Saturday lessons with a woman who may have been the inspiration for Jack Palance's character in City Slickers. I hear her voice in my nightmares occasionally.
Or when I took my first creative writing class in college and found out there were RULES to creating what had always tumbled out of me quite naturally. And that I was breaking all of them. (As I navigate the writing world today, I'm still figuring out those rules. And why none of my favorite authors follow them.)
Or when I first found out about faith in Christ, and entered into a living relationship with Jesus. And then met up with a religious person focused entirely on maintaining, analyzing, and enforcing the rules of "proper" Christianity. Humans in the church have spent the last 2000 years creating rules for every aspect of existence. Most of these rules have nothing to do with salvation or eternal life, or having a relationship with God.
All of these experiences with "rules," and many similar ones, have a bad aftertaste. Kind of like morning breath. Or burping garlic capsules. Or smelling a stink bug... OK, you get the picture.

Now, I know rules are important. I'm a fan of speed limits, spelling, reasonable grammar, and the rules for Scrabble, among others. Unquestionably, there are biblical rules that God set in place for the purpose of saving us and protecting us from harm, not restricting us from enjoying life in its fullness.

But man-made rules that stifle creativity and hinder relationship leave me cold. Those are the rules that steal my passion and pervert my purpose. Those kinds of "rules" are ones I must avoid.

(On that note, my blog posts here at In Truer Ink will probably continue to be "all about me" and my opinions, and thoughts, and experiences, because everything I do gets filtered through my perception of life. And I'll still use free clip art and photos, because I like them. And if I write about something that doesn't interest you, then you are by no means obligated to read it!)

As an adult, I've found Christmas to be one of the most rule-bound times of the year. And right after Christmas we jump, feet first, into our rules - resolutions - for the New Year. Just saying "new year's resolutions" is enough to raise hackles. Why? Because we weren't created to be a bunch of rule-keepers.

God created us to be keepers of relationships, stewards of his nature within us, guardians of what is good and true and holy and pure. Our rules for living should first stem from the only rule Jesus espoused, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself." We call it the Golden Rule. If all our rules are overlaid and undergirded by that, then our rules will work to our benefit. If not, well, we've all been there.

The greatest of the great in every realm - from Shakespeare to Einstein - were rule-breakers. The ones who did something different. Even Jesus. No, He never broke God's perfect law of liberty, but he brushed the rules of man aside whenever and wherever they were hindering humanity from knowing and loving God the Father, or loving each other.

Examine your own personal set of rules. Fashion rules, decorating rules, designing rules, writing rules, etc. They may be hangovers from the golf or tennis lessons you took when you were twelve, or something your mother said to you that branded your psyche and you can't shake it loose. Put those rules to the test. If they steal your passion or hinder your creativity, if they separate you from God's presence rather than drawing you closer to Him, then you need to figure out where that rule came from and whether or not you need to hold on to it.

Sometimes, if we want a breakthrough in life, we have to be willing to BREAK THROUGH some things, and that might just start with some of those man-made, artificial rules. 






 

This is a reblog of an earlier post. I'm going to see "New Moon" in the theater this weekend, Stephenie Meyer was on Oprah, authors are screaming about how unfair her success is, and vampire books, movies, and television shows are springing up like dandelions. What's the fuss? Without getting too religious about the moral value of the vampire myth, let's just look at a possible reason for its broad appeal. Something is drawing people to the Twilight Saga... could it be a driving inner thirst, not for human blood, but for love? For a Savior willing to sacrifice Himself for us?

I confess, I'm a closet Twilight fan. With no movie theater in town, no kids in public school, and a personal distaste for all things vampire in nature, Twilight never even blipped on my radar screen. I saw the books by Stephenie Meyer at Wal-Mart, but wrote them off as "young adult" novels. And then my daughter and her fiance brought the movie version home on DVD.
Edward's appeal is his willingness to lay down his life and deny his own desires for the sake of the woman he loves. What woman doesn't want to be loved and desired so deeply, so intensely, that the man she loves is willing to risk himself – not just physically – but emotionally, socially, and mentally as he reveals the deepest secrets of his heart and exposes his true identity, to her?