www.dictionary.com

"But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power..." 2 Tim 3:1-5 ESV

That about sums it up, doesn't it? How, then, are we to respond?

Shall we run out, buy handguns, and get concealed-carry permits so we can start "packing" whenever we head out to the store or the movie or the workplace? (Sorry, I'm a gun owner myself, but I have trouble with the idea that we're all gonna turn into Milla Jovanovich from Resident Evil if somebody whips out a semi-automatic in a public place, no matter how many hours we've spent at the shooting range.)

Shall we start testing our toddlers for signs of future psychosis and drugging them in advance? Making sure any angry, dissatisfied child will never become a threat to society? Or, better yet, subject EVERYONE to mental health exams and tests (in a field that changes from day to day) in the hopes of weeding out those who might slip over the edge and cause harm to others?

Obviously, those are knee-jerk reactions, born from emotions and our desperation to maintain some sense of security in our lives. Are those notions logical, rational, sane? No.

And that's the trouble. According to Newton's law, every action produces an equal and opposite reaction. But in the case of insane human behavior, we can't allow ourselves to yield to Newton's law.  The automatic, emotional response to the acts of insanity that take place in the world around us are based in fear, shock, horror, and dismay; not reason, sound judgment, good sense, or a state of calm, clear, mental health.

Each time we face one of these horrible events in our nation, or in our world, we must remember, one act of insanity cannot be balanced by an equal and opposite act of insanity... Step back, pray, seek God's ways and His will, and above all, don't react out of fear, because then you lose your power to respond in faith, to respond with a rational voice, to step outside ourselves and our desire to protect and defend our own in order to determine the necessary actions for the greater good.

Precious treasures are lost in an instant.

Pressure, aka stress, seems to "amp up" with the onset of the holidays. We add extra cooking and cleaning, extra shopping, coordinating family activities and get-togethers, traveling or hosting guests, parties at school and work to prepare for and attend, special programs at church, etc., to already busy schedules.

Mix in all the unspoken pressure to decorate the house from roof to foundation inside and out, to buy the perfect gifts for everyone, including people you rarely see and may not even like (which adds financial and mental stress), and to keep up with all the traditions we've adopted or which have been foisted upon us by marketing geniuses over the past few centuries. Throw in a bit of nostalgia for emotional turmoil and you have a "perfect storm" of pressure.

(If you've never watched this music video for "Under Pressure" by David Bowie and Queen, circa 1981, take a peek. Some things never change. Well, our movie vampires and werewolves have gotten a lot cuter...) 


Most of us, myself included, spend an inordinate amount of time trying to escape pressure in any form, good or bad. Much of our squirming accomplishes little more than rearranging the pressure by juggling our schedule, or improving our organizational skills, or reprioritizing our task lists, or just avoiding things we don't like. But maybe we aren't always supposed to get out from under pressure. What if we could let it work for us for good?

Photo by beautifulcataya on flickr

Think about this:

• Pressure (and heat) are responsible for creating gemstones out of chunks of common elements.
• Adding pressure speeds up the cooking process, resulting in a finished product in less time.
• Put pressure and steam together and tremendous amounts of power can be generated.
• Time pressure, like deadlines and goal setting, has been proven to improve productivity.
• Physical pressure (resistance training) increases muscle strength AND bone mass. 

Do you see it? Pressure isn't necessarily a negative... IF we harness it. So how do we do that? Jesus gave us a clue...

I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace and confidence. In the world you have tribulation and trials and distress and frustration; but be of good cheer [take courage; be confident, certain, undaunted]! For I have overcome the world. [I have deprived it of power to harm you and have conquered it for you.]

(John 16:33-17:1 AMP)

He told us to expect pressure, told us we would have it (something we tend to forget as Christians), but how did he tell us to deal with it? Four simple words: "be of good cheer." Really? That's it? That's the key to the resistance that will harness the power of pressure for good? I think so.

"Being of good cheer" goes beyond being happy. Being of good cheer is about taking courage, being bold, and having a good attitude. It's about being kind to others, about choosing peace instead of strife, about believing the best of every person and in every situation.

Whining, pouting, grumbling, griping, complaining, and having a pity party are the opposite of "being of good cheer." And yet, isn't that what's most tempting to do when pressure comes? That should clue us in. The things that seem easiest to our flesh are often the very things that make us weak and vulnerable. That temptation to collapse under pressure and give in to all those negative thoughts and emotions swirling around is a trap! That's the enemy of our soul trying to set us up to be trampled by our circumstances.

The prophet Nehemiah put it this way: "... for the joy of the Lord is your strength." The complete verse is is wonderfully applicable for this season.

He continued, "Go home and prepare a feast, holiday food and drink; and share it with those who don't have anything: This day is holy to God. Don't feel bad. The joy of God is your strength!" 

Being of good cheer, choosing joy, strengthens us from the inside out, so that we can stand when pressure comes, and as we stand, we will be changed. So let's put on on our happy faces, accentuate the positive, turn those frowns upside-down, and let pressure transform us instead of being trampled by it.

Can you tell there's a whole lotta Sesame Street on the screen in my house these days? I always loved the commercial message at the end of the program: "Sesame Street was brought to you today by the letter ___ and the number ____. Bye-bye!"

Since things have been a little heavy here the last few weeks, I'm in the mood for something light, comforting, and cheerful, so I'm sharing some of my favorite things that start with the letter "O."


1. Oreos
These fabulous cookies, which celebrated their 100th anniversary this year, have two "O's," so they're first up. I prefer the Double Stuf version, which I realize is akin to committing Oreo sacrilege among the cookie's most committed devotees.

2. Otters
Both the furry critter kind as seen here, because they're just so darn CUTE!

AND the personality type as described by Gary Smalley. (You can take his personality test for free, and find out if you are a lion, an otter, a beaver, or a golden retriever. In my opinion, it's one of the best personality tests out there.) Although I'm NOT an Otter, I love to hang around with otters because they are FUN.

3. Operation (the game).
We still have my original Operation game, and my grown kids occasionally get it out. When I compare the hand-eye coordination required with Operation to what they can do with video games now, I think my generation was sorely lacking. Playing Operation is one of the first times I remember having an adrenaline rush. Yeah, because I'm weird like that.

4. Opals (the gemstone)
Opal is the birthstone for those born in October. It's supposed to be "unlucky" for others to wear the stone, but I think that's silly. You get what you believe. Opals are awesome because they change with the light, hence the term "opalescent."

5. Obedience
This is, quite possibly, my favorite O word. Obedience, whether it's me obeying God, or my children being obedient to my husband and myself, having an obedient dog (I'm sure someone out there has one of those), or folks simply obeying the laws of the land (like not speeding, and not littering, for example), obedience is a good thing. It makes life run better, for everyone! (Couldn't come up with a good picture for this, so here's a picture of Archie. Who is mostly obedient. This is not one of those times.)



OK. (Hey! Another "O" word.) That was about as light and casual as this Beaver-type personality gets. I hope you thought of an "O" that brought a smile to your face today!

In light of the social media, news media, and general media experiences this election week, I think "NICENESS" may have gone by the wayside.

"Nice" was a word we were banned from using in English composition classes. "Surely you can come up with something better than, 'nice,'" my teachers said. Nice was relegated to the same overused box as "good" and "pretty" and "bad" and "very."

These days, I think we could all use some plain ol' NICE.

NICE: , requiring precision or tact. 2, subtle, as a distinction. 3, delicately sensitive; minutely accurate. 4, fastidious, refined; discriminating. 5, (Colloq.) pleasing or pleasant; attractive; kind.

I think I'm going to make a point of being NICE this week. Using tact... being sensitive... kind... accurate.  

Maybe it's because of the elections, or the hurricane coverage, or hormones, or who knows what, but I'm sort of lacking in profound, important, deeply spiritual posts of late. This week's a2z post is about a mouse.


Not THIS particular mouse:



Unlike many other members of my gender, I do not find mice terrifying. I've even had them as pets, and for the most part, I think they're cute.

NOTE: The mice we have aren't those miniature rats commonly known as "house mice." These mice are "field mice" that have painstakingly traversed their way to the warmth and abundant food of my house as the nights grow cold and foraging becomes more challenging. (I've wondered if there's a tiny neon sign with an arrow that reads "EATS" out in the field around my abode. This house has been known to have serious infestations of Mus Musculus.) These are the mice Beatrix Potter wrote about, with their big ears and eyes, long whiskers, and tidy little white tummies they are meticulous about cleaning.



(Give it up, they're cute, whether you like mice or not.)

EXCEPT when they're hiding in a drawer full of kitchen utensils (or in the dog food bag, or in a package of crackers in the pantry.) Then those tiny, fragile animals suddenly possess the power to make me shriek, squeal, and do one of those impromptu Ninja-meets-tap-dancer jigs that accompany being startled by snakes, spiders, rodents, and other stealthy creatures.

And that's how my morning started on Friday. I opened a drawer in the kitchen in search of a utensil, only to find myself face to face with a wayward mouse. I'm sure our panicked expressions mirrored each other. I squeaked, the mouse squeaked, I slammed the drawer shut, and the mouse disappeared.

Knowing from experience that the old adage about mice (if you've seen one you've got a hundred) is true, I bought a trap on Saturday. A live trap, because I hate disposing of their little broken bodies and would rather haul them to the barn and let them fend for themselves with the barn cats. I baited the trap with peanut butter and placed it, according to instructions, under the sink, where I presume Drawer Mouse entered my home. Thus far, the trap remains empty.

This morning I awoke to the sound of little scurrying feet in the ceiling over my bed. Mouse feet. Darn it. He (or she) has brought in reinforcements.

And so, the battle begins.

My Pinterest wall has been flooded this week with pictures of Bento lunches. For those who are unfamiliar with the concept, a Bento lunch, according to Wikipedia, is a simple Japanese method of packing a boxed lunch. These pictures on Pinterest are anything but simple. They are works of art, like this Angry Birds inspired lunch from mymealbox.


Or this one, from bentozen,


Cute, no?
I agree, they're adorable.
But here's my question... who has the time (much less the ingredients) to create these things every day? Or are they only for special occasions?

To be honest, they remind me of Molly Ringwald's lunch in this scene from The Breakfast Club...

Seriously. I have evil flashbacks about school lunches... If the "cool" kids had sack lunches, I had hot lunch. If I had sack lunch, I had the wrong lunchbox, not to mention the wrong lunch. Parents, never send your children to elementary school with liverwurst sandwiches, no matter how much your children like to eat liverwurst.

So I can just imagine the child who shows up at school with a wadded up brown paper sack containing a slightly smushed PB&J, a couple of leftover cookies, and the inevitable banana that has successfully flavored the sandwich and the cookies with eau de banana in the space of a few short hours. Said child slides into a seat, only to find herself surrounded by children whose lunch boxes expose carefully handcrafted 3D scenes of popular TV and movie and cartoon characters. Sorry... it's a future school-related nightmare waiting to happen.

Lunch. Do it right and avoid social nightmares. With Bento, the stakes have been raised.

 For more (and probably much more inspiring) "L" posts, check out the a2z meme.

The kvetchers are out in force; the complainers, the grumblers, the gripers, and the groaners seem to perceive election season as the perfect opportunity to unload their negativity on the rest of us.

Ordinarily, I can take it in stride. After all, everyone has bad days, lousy weeks, and rotten seasons in their lives, times when kvetching is just par for the course. Some people are chronic kvetchers. I can usually take them in small doses. But this time of year? When we're bombarded with angry political discourse and a month's worth of breast cancer fear-mongering? I just can't take it any more.

Kvetch is derived from a Yiddish term meaning to crush or to press. How descriptive! When you're around continual kvetching, you feel pressed into the corner, forced to respond or react. You have to agree with the kvetcher, or be willing to enter into an argument. It's really a form of intimidation, isn't it?

In everything you do, stay away from complaining and arguing so that no one can speak a word of blame against you. You are to live clean, innocent lives as children of God in a dark world full of people who are crooked and stubborn. Shine out among them like beacon lights, holding out to them the Word of Life.

Phil 2:14-16 TLB

Therefore, I'm making a determination to avoid kvetching. Even kvetching about the kvetchers (as soon as this post is done)! Instead, I'll praise, or promote, or just go back to that classic rule of communication that seems lost in our current discourse: "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all." 

The Biblical story of Jericho is the stuff of VBS memories, children's church songs, Veggie Tales and coloring pages.

But the story of Jericho really happened (check out this NY Times article if you need proof outside the pages of your Bible). As with all great stories, it's filled with lessons for us to apply to our daily lives when we come up against seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

In the Bible story, Joshua and the Israelites have (finally) entered into the land God promised them when they left slavery behind in Egypt some 40 years earlier. They come up against the fortified city of Jericho, a city whose walls were wide enough to race chariots on, at least as wide as a 2-lane highway, walls wide enough to hold people's dwellings (like Rahab's house).
 
For the Israelites, Jericho represented the impossible. That which could not be overcome according to their own strength and ability.

We all have our Jerichos.

For you, it might be a physical Jericho, like chronic health problems, or smoking, or overeating, or "girl trouble." Or your Jericho might be mental (depression, anxiety, fear) or emotional (anger, lust, loneliness). Into all of our lives come Jerichos... job loss, money troubles, marital problems, kids in crisis. Our Jerichos look different, even from season to season in our own lives, but the question they provoke is always the same: what's to be done about it?

I can usually tell when I've hit a Jericho moment, because I find myself commiserating with Pa Grape and thinking about going backward instead of forward...

But with every Jericho, if we will stop and ask for wisdom and direction, God's got a plan for our success. It might sound crazy, it might seem impossible, but His plan is designed for optimum overcoming power.

Want to know what's even more awesome? When we follow His plan, not only do we overcome, our victory makes the way for others... like Rahab the harlot, who lived on the wall of Jericho, but because she believed God's messengers, ended up in the lineage of Jesus Christ, the son of the living God.

So what's your Jericho?  You never know whose life and future will be affected by your victory, no matter how long it takes, how hard the battle, or how weird your methods for achieving success!

The letter "I" had me stumped this week.

 By definition, identity is "what a thing or person is; a name, classification, etc." 

We find our identities by identifying with others around similarities like names (family), gender, age, backgrounds (shared locations and activities), attitudes and opinions (religion, politics, and artistic preferences fall into this category), among any number of other possibilities. The ways in which we define our individual identities are as varied and unusual as we are.

But what happens when your process of identification is skewed? I wept through an entire episode of "What Not to Wear" this week. The fashion victim of the week's entire sense of self-worth was wrapped up in how she looked. No, she wasn't a Barbie-wanna-be, spending hours doing her makeup and hair and agonizing over her wardrobe. She'd gone the other direction... adopting an unflattering uniform of khaki pants and polo shirts and basically ignoring her appearance because she hated how she looked. She'd gained a few pounds, and couldn't assimilate her new shape into her personal identity.

I can relate. Seven years after losing almost 30 pounds (thanks to obsessive calorie-counting and exercise) I've managed to gain half of that back in the last year. Chalk it up to stress, age, whatever... I'm still well within a "healthy" weight and BMI. I'm still exercising consistently. But I've lost the OCD-type of willpower it took to measure out 10 grams of chocolate chips and call it dessert. I've lost the urge to avoid foods like scrambled eggs and cheese and movie popcorn under the quest for "skinny."

Christina Hendricks... beautiful!

I reached skinny, you see... at least according to friends and family. I got down to a weight my husband and children labeled "skeletal" and my physician warned "do not lose any more weight." But I still wasn't satisfied. I still didn't feel "good" about myself. Today, despite the "you look great!" comments from friends and family about my softer, rounder figure, I'm still struggling. It's an identity crisis, and it has nothing to do with what I weigh or how I look in the mirror.

The crisis comes from deep within. Whether I slap on a "skinny" label or a "fat" label, or any other label, the crisis is rooted in a lack of self-acceptance. Basically, I don't like "me." Ouch. Managing the externals — weight, hair, clothing, makeup — is like taking Tylenol to control chronic pain... a temporary solution at best.

I'm supposed to find my identity in Christ, I know. In spite of my shortcomings, flaws, and failures,  He loves me, accepts me, adopted me, receives me, rejoices over me... and yet I dislike myself. How rude of me! In my opinion, it's a heck of a lot easier to accept and offer grace and mercy and kindness to someone else than it is to offer the same to myself.

I keep thinking: What if I just let myself BE? What if I ate what I wanted, exercised as I pleased, and let the fat molecules fall where they may? Is that so terrible? Is that a sin? What if I wind up curvy and fluffy (with short hair, to boot!)? What if I have to buy new clothes to accommodate my new size? Would that be so bad?

And then, in the grand scheme of things, does any of that really matter, anyway?

I think about ESP a lot. Mostly because there's this button on the dash of my car, just to the right of the big red HAZARD button, and I can't ever remember what the letters actually stand for... So while I'm driving, I see the button, and I think, "What does that stand for again?"

Extra-sensory perception is what pops into my head first. You know, the ability to sense things that are outside the five physical senses with which our bodies interact with the world around us. I believe we all have it to some degree. Call it intuition, or a "gut feeling," or a "sixth sense" it's part of being a human, created in the image and likeness of God.

Too "woo-woo" for ya? Consider this... you are a spirit, you live in a body, and you have a soul (your mind, will, and emotions). Your spirit is the part of you that is (Or should be, and can be!) in constant communication with God, whether through hearing the still, small voice of His Holy Spirit "speaking" to you on the inside, or sensing His presence in nature or feeling His divine energy and power demonstrated in the love of others.

Your spirit probably also picks up some other voices, too, the way a radio set to scan will land on channels just because they're out there. Those voices might be distracting, or dark, or even demonic, looking for a way to deceive you. Remember, just because something is broadcasting, you aren't required to listen!

In reality, the ESP button on my dash stands for "Extra Stability Protection" and it has something to do with the all-wheel drive system that keeps the tires from slipping. (Yes, I had to get out my owner's manual and look it up.)

Hmm. From a spiritual standpoint, having the kind of ESP we should have (hearing from heaven for direction, or warning, or correction, or encouragement) would give us Extra Stability Protection in life. Maybe now I'll be able to remember it. If nothing else, it reminds me to listen!

Dread: To anticipate with alarm, distaste, or reluctance.

Dreading chores, dreading deadlines, dreading holidays, dreading meetings, dreading work, dreading appointments, dreading phone calls, dreading sleep, dreading waking up, dreading assignments... dread, dread, dread. Everybody dreads something... trips to the dentist, dieting, exercise, visits with the in-laws, confrontations at work. But for most, it's a fleeting thing, not a way of life.

Dread is one step above simple worry. I've wasted a significant portion of life on this planet dreading things. I don't like to make reservations for trips because I spend the whole time between reserving tickets and actually leaving the house in a state of perpetual dread. I dread driving on snowy roads in July and dread the energy-sapping heat of summer in January. Just in the last couple of weeks I've spent multiple hours consumed with dread over an assignment. A simple assignment, one that only took me a few hours of actual work to complete.

So what's the source of all this dread? I think it's a combination of fear and, to my dismay, selfishness. I dread things I don't want to do for a variety of reasons (I'm lazy, I'm indifferent, I'm tired, I'm frustrated, I'm an introvert, I'm shy). I dread things I do want to do because I dread feeling uncomfortable, awkward, out of control. I dread rejection (and assume it's headed my way). I dread failure (and assume, again, that it's headed my way.) Even when I succeed, the nasty flavor of dread dilutes the taste of victory. 

The real problem here? (Besides the fact that I am a textbook candidate for meds... been there, done that.) Dread is dumb. I hate dumb. Dreading things doesn't change them. I mean, eventually you have to sleep, and wake up, and do your chores, and... So it's time to chuck dread in the waste bin. Easier said than done, I know, but I'm going to make a concerted effort to stop dreading everything and just start living. It's just one more example of the subtle and sneaky ways the enemy of our souls sneaks in to rob us of the abundant, overflowing, full life that Jesus has prepared, arranged, and paid for us to have.

Dread, you gotta go. I've lived with you long enough and I'm done!

How about you? Where has dread snuck in and stolen your joy? Or your energy? Or your ability to function? Ready to kick dread to the curb, complete with bags and baggage?

Remember this commercial?



(I apologize... you'll be singing that jingle all day. Me, too.)

No, I'm not posting about perspiration, although for the record I think it's ridiculous that our culture is so silly about basic bodily functions. This post is actually about confidence.

Confidence (full trust; belief in the powers, trustworthiness, or reliability of a person or thing) can be very fragile. A harsh word, ridicule, rebuke, or rejection can sap your confidence in your own ability. Disappointment, discouragement, or deception are destructive to our confidence in others. The loss of confidence makes us hesitate when we should be charging ahead. It makes us withdraw when we have an opportunity to advance. Attempting to do anything you don't feel confident about is 10X more difficult that doing something you believe you are able to accomplish.

We have an enemy who would like to keep each of us as constricted and contained as possible. The more able and qualified you are to do something, especially if it's something "for the greater good," the harder the enemy works behind the scenes to draw a line in the sand you'll be afraid to cross. Every time you fail to push back and cross that line, he pushes harder and draws another one, corralling you in a smaller and smaller enclosure until you're in the equivalent of an imaginary straightjacket.

What is that line in the sand? It's your confidence line. 
  
Where have you allowed the enemy of your soul to push back your confidence line and hinder you from doing what you love, fulfilling your calling in this world, or just enjoying your life in fullness? 

I'm tired of being restrained and restricted. I mean, when you can't even make a phone call without hyperventilating, when going for a walk causes a panic attack, when having lunch with a friend or submitting an article or going out of town leaves you wanting to crawl under your bed and hide, when you're so beat down you don't even start something new for fear of failure, that's NOT the abundant life Jesus came to give us.

"The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows.)" ~Jesus 

John 10:10, The Amplified Bible

 It's time to push back... you (and I) might not have any confidence in ourselves, but we CAN have confidence that the One who loves us with an everlasting love is right there with us, pouring HIS ability into us that we may succeed and thrive!



(For more A2Z posts, check out the following awesome site!) 
  

I've got babies on the brain today. My daughter delivered her second child last night, our first granddaughter!

Gracelyn Violet Walker

She looks like a little pixie (although that might be the pointy hat), and she's tiny! 5 pounds, 12.5 oz. and 18.75 inches long.

Today was also the first day of high school for MY baby, Josh, the youngest of my four. When I was pregnant with him, I was convinced he was going to be a girl, and he refused to cooperate with the ultrasound tech to let us know. I had a girl's name all picked out... Grace Estelle. It has taken almost 15 years, but I finally get my Gracie.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my Josh for anything. He's my hugger, just like his dad (also the baby) was with his mom, even as a big, scary teenager. Josh got on the big yellow bus this morning at the crack of dawn (literally, he's the first one on the route) and headed off for his first day of high school. I can't wait to hear how it goes, but I believe he will do well and succeed!


Needless to say, I'm a little distracted with all these babies! I'm taking care of my not-quite-16-month-old grandson, Talen, and waiting for his mommy and daddy and baby sister to be released from the hospital tomorrow. I'm a little giddy, a little sleep deprived, and a lot busy! But that's what babies are for, right?

Find more A2Z meme posts here...

Hooray! It's the return of the a2z meme! OK, I confess, I fizzled out before the end of the second round, but we were in the middle of moving and unpacking and... yeah. (I guess "E" should be for "excuses.") Anyway, a huge "thank you" to Patty Wysong for continuing a2z and helping writers and bloggers connect via alphabet and Internet for another 26 weeks! Here we go!

Appearances: outward impressions, indications, or circumstances

We are consumed by appearances. Marketing professionals make beaucoup bucks engineering products and corporate presentations to increase sales and brand loyalty. Celebrities and politicians (is there really a difference anymore?) fork over big money to stylists and consultants who can manipulate the best presentation of their public persona. Churches spend precious dollars to create an atmosphere (appearances) that will be perceived as welcoming, wholesome, and holy.

I'd love to say I'm immune to the pressure and persuasion of appearances, but I'm not. I still buy the book with the most appealing cover, scramble to clean my house from top to bottom when I know I have guests coming to visit, and spend more time than usual choosing my attire, fixing my makeup and doing my hair on Sunday before church than I do the rest of the week. I still have to fight the knee-jerk reaction to judge others according to appearances, and endure the onslaught of silent and not-so-silent judgment from others based on my own appearances (remember, appearances include both natural presentation, expression, and your current circumstances.)

And yet, what do our outward impressions, indications, or circumstances have to do with anything that's actually going on in our lives? Some would argue (I've been among that group), that appearances are just a reflection of what's within, and therefore should be carefully groomed and maintained, lest we "give the wrong impression." Others reject and rebel against any suggestion of manipulating or controlling appearances, and end up manipulating and controlling their appearances in a negative sense (I've been in that group, too).


Jesus was (and is) well aware of our penchant for keeping up appearances and putting on airs. He rebuked the tidy, conservative, clean-cut Pharisees for their focus on the externals, and commended the adulteress, the tax collector, and the thief for having hearts that hungered for forgiveness, righteousness, and relationship with God.

When it all comes down to the ink on the page, or the rubber meeting the road, or brass tacks, or whichever euphemism you choose, appearances don't count for a darned thing in the face of an all-seeing, all-knowing God. He already knows where you're at, what you're like, where you've been, what you've gone through/are going through, how you think, who you are deep down inside... everything about you, inside and out. He was there when you were knit together in your mother's womb, making plans for your future filled with hope and goodness.

We've all taken twists and turns along the way, wandering along paths of His leading, of our own making, or the deceptions of the enemy. Sometimes, when those shiny false-fronts we've erected in our lives to "save face" at work or with friends or at church come crashing down in a stiff breeze, exposing us to the eyes of those who judge and condemn, we need to remember that the God who MADE us saw us playing the role of the wizard in our own little Oz the whole time and loved us anyway, with an everlasting love.

The author of Ecclesiastes writes (if you've ever seen "Footloose" this will sound familiar):

There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:
A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.
(Eccl 3:1-8 MSG)

Country music (and a classic cliche) put it this way: "Timing is everything."
If the timing is off in my car, nothing runs quite the way it's supposed to.
If the timing is off between a couple on Dancing With the Stars, they aren't voted on to the next week of competition

Timing (and missing it) are scary prospects.

What if we "miss" the plan? What if our internal clock is skewed by a slow battery or a sun flare or a prankster in the household? What if we don't "hear" from heaven and respond accordingly in time? Are we then lost to the ultimate power and control of that incessant ticking called TIME?
I don't think so.
In my opinion, God is bigger than our mere human understanding of time in the form of years and centuries and millenia. Forgive my comparison, please, but like Doctor Who of BBC fame, God is the ultimate "TIME LORD."

And because His expressed will for us is for our GOOD, not for our failure, defeat, or destruction, He is well able (and perhaps more importantly, willing) to correct our human failures in timing in order that His perfect plan for our well-being is ultimately fulfilled.

The Patrick and I are notorious for getting lost on road trips. On the way home from Las Vegas we missed the only exit we needed to take on the interstate (and that with GPS) and ended up more than an hour off course somewhere in Utah. We were lost because we hadn't been paying attention to the blinking dot on the iPhone that marked our course, but that didn't mean we were forsaken! (Although the dot on the map we found ourselves at might have been sucked right out of a "Deliverance" or "Race With the Devil" movie set.

Too many people get off course, fall out of God's plan for some reason, find themselves on an unexpected detour, or are convinced they are lost forever. Not. True. Can you imagine how crazy insane it would have been if we'd called up the kids and said, "We missed an exit, got lost, and are gonna  settle down in this tiny little burg in the boonies of Utah." Um, no. No one does that. (Do they?)

Sure, missed turns and opportunities cost us something, but they aren't the end of the road! Our God is able to redeem the time, able to give us new opportunities. Stop looking backward at what you may have missed and start looking forward! 

Check out these other From A2Z for U and Me Take Two posts...

We're in the process of moving. It's a process because we have weeks to accomplish the goal. Therefore, some members of my household are dragging their feet and others are lunging at the gate. (I won't tell you which category I fall into.)

This afternoon we filled the box truck with another load. This load included the living room couch, area rugs, coffee table and sofa table; all my books and bookshelves; and the kitchen table and chairs. My living room and dining room are now a vast expanse of empty space. I kind of like it.

As we've been packing and sorting and separating, it has occurred to me that we pack the empty spaces in our lives with "stuff." Why? I think we're afraid of empty space. We're afraid of silence. We're afraid of hunger. We're afraid of the uncomfortable and the inconvenient and the unpleasant. So we fill the spaces in our lives with "stuff."

• Books we've read and never intend to read again that line our shelves.
• Blankets and towels and linens in enough quantity to supply a small army (or at least a Boy Scout troop). 
• Pictures and knick-knacks and tchochkes and fluff to soften the impact of blank walls and empty tabletops.
• "Spares" of everything from vases to toothbrushes to screwdrivers.
• And that's just what's in the house... I won't even begin to analyze all the "stuff" in the garage and shed, because that's hubby's domain, and we've already had multiple discussions about whose stuff is cluttering up that space. (At least my junk was in boxes. That's my excuse.)

Remember the TV commercials that featured children padding themselves up with toilet paper to protect against falls or spankings? How much of the stuff in our lives is merely our attempt to provide padding in case we take a tumble or get rebuked?

As I'm in this process of spiritual renovation, I see the same pattern in my spiritual life...  discovering all the "extras" I've been using in my relationship with God—religious tchotchke's that satisfiy the fleshly desire for religious accolades while leaving the spirit empty and bereft. I go to pray and God interrupts me: "Is that you, or is that Memorex?" Am I praying by rote—merely reciting words I've heard others say—or is my communication with my Creator and Savior alive and interactive? He's alive, therefore my communication ought to be alive as well, shouldn't it?

The world around us is becoming more and more complicated. Even as social communication and interaction increase, so do confusion and misinterpretation and even outright deception. It's time, spiritually and naturally, to apply the principles of simplicity: freedom from complexity, freedom from intricacy, or division into parts; the absence of pretentiousness; and sincerity.

I believe it's time for us to get simple, time to apply the KISS principle. (Keep It Simple, Stupid.) Where have YOU complicated your life? Your spiritual walk? Your relationships with others? As someone has said, "when things don't add up, start subtracting."

How can, or do, you need to simplify?  




(For more a2z take 2 posts, click the pic...)

Since The Patrick and I can't even hang a picture together without getting irritated, we've agreed that we'll never attempt a DIY home remodeling project. I can't stand it. It's too messy. Too inconvenient. Full of unexpected obstacles and unpleasant discoveries. And, it always takes longer and costs more than expected.
That said, my Abba Father has me in the midst of a spiritual renovation that's turning out to be equally messy, inconvenient, and uncomfortable. Even worse, He seems to be keeping the project blueprints secret, presumably so I won't (again) attempt to perform a DIY version of what He has planned. I just have to keep trusting that my heavenly architect knows what He is doing, and has something good planned, because that's what He promised.

As with most professional renovation projects, stage one involves gutting the existing structure. Oh yeah, that's fun. Not. Wise renovators turn off the power and the gas so they can install new fixtures without risk of electrocution or explosions. Unfortunately, that means when you go to turn on the stove, the stove is not there. When you turn to the sink, the water is off. Everything you've come to depend and rely on is either missing, out of place, or out of order.


That spot where the pipe leaked and warped the floor, and you threw a rug over it? It's now a gaping hole, ready to be properly repaired. The dent in the wall where you threw the toaster across the room in a fit of rage and then patched the wall with spackle and paint? Not okay, according to the pros. Nope, to do it right, they strip it all down to the barest skeleton of the original design. It's quite a process. And when it's taking place internally, it's a bit painful.

And that's where I'm at... almost empty. 14+ years of hidden rot, a termite here or there, some hasty patch jobs, leaky pipes, dangerous wiring, faulty fixtures and obsolete appliances are being systematically done away with.

Spiritually speaking I'm talking about hidden wounds, old offenses, weak doctrines, lies the enemy planted that took root, emotional ruts, "stinking thinking" and old ways of doing and being that are not just futile and ineffective, they are dangerous.

I'm looking forward to the moment when Abba says, "Darling daughter, open your eyes and see what I have done." I know it will be good, better than I can ask or think. But right now? I'm getting back in that cocoon...  

(NOTE: I wrote this Monday night... it has taken me until Tuesday night to post it. Yes, I have a problem.)


I have 23 minutes to write this post. Why? Because the next episode of Castle is on.


What can I say that's worth reading in 23 minutes? Excellent question. (Being the typical insecure writer-sort, I frequently question whether anything I write is worth reading.) But that's neither here nor there... oops, down to 21 minutes.

This week's A2Z take 2 letter (for me, anyway) is the letter Q. The letter we dread getting in Words With Friends and Scrabble games because it's worth a tremendous number of points but is almost useless without a complementary letter U.

So what does Q stand for in my life right now? Quit.

Huh? Isn't that a bad word? Isn't quitting the very thing we are supposed to resist until the end of time?

Not necessarily.

Sometimes we need to quit a few things.
Are you a smoker? An overeater? An overachiever? You probably need to quit.

Is the project, manuscript, assignment, relationship, or job you're in going nowhere, bearing no fruit, or sucking the life out of you? You probably need to quit.

Not quit writing, or being a Christian, or your marriage, or a friendship ... just quit pouring (wasting)  energy and time on those activities that have come to an end. In my experience, Christians have the hardest time of anyone "letting things go" and "setting things aside" (synonyms for "quitting").

Our belief in the power of faith to change people, situations, circumstances, and our own limitations, weaknesses, and desires makes us reluctant to call a time of death on something we believe the Holy Spirit led us into. After all, if it dies on our watch... that makes us failures, right? Wrong.

(11 minutes remaining)
 
While I believe in a sovereign God, I believe He has sovereignly given man free will to determine his/her destiny. That said, there are times and situations we will be "led" into that will not produce the kinds of results our natural minds expect because free will is involved. Everyone has the right to respond or reject the invitation of God, whether to salvation or to ministry or to a church family.


(4 minutes... the clock is ticking, can I do it?)

My conclusion? We need to learn how to quit, because if you are like me, coming to the point of quitting is to enter the realm of the unknown. How do you quit something (a toxic relationship, a church assignment, or a God-assigned job) with grace?

Suggestions?
Thus far, my personal "quitting" method — avoidance — has been effective, yet guilt-provoking.
Anyone have any better tactics?

Time for Castle... what do you need to quit? Do you have a quitting plan?

 For more awesome, excellent A2Z Take 2 posts (Thank you, Patty Wysong, for keeping my blog alive during this time of crazy life transitions!) click the nifty pic below...

For years I've shunned the curse that is procrastination.

As defined by Merriam-Webster, procrastination is the practice or act of putting off (intentionally and habitually) something that should be done.

My husband, bless his heart, is afflicted by the malady. For 22 years his propensity to put things off till tomorrow in classic Scarlett O'Hara style has driven me to distraction. Yet somehow in the last year or so, I've come to recognize those same symptoms in myself. In reverse.

Hubby procrastinates "normal" things, like paying bills and balancing the checkbook. I have friends who wage an ongoing war against dirty laundry. I grew up in a household where doing the dishes was put off until there weren't any clean ones left in the cupboard.

My version of procrastination takes a different route. I procrastinate the things I WANT to do. Yeah, yeah... call it crazy. I assume it has something to do with being guilt-and-penance driven. I'll put off the things that I know will make me feel better and fill hours with "productive" activities like reorganizing the spices or scrubbing the inside of the bathroom cabinets. Even worse, I'm now infected by the social media malady, which allows me to justify countless hours online as "networking" and "ministry" and "branding."

I always feel better after I exercise, but I continue to generate endless excuses to put off that moment when I push "play." In the same way, I always feel better when I spend my allotted amount of time writing, but I waste hours tinkering with my website, surfing Facebook, checking email, and pinning things to Pinterest until I've used up all the minutes allotted to plugging words into my latest manuscript.


Is there a cure? I'm sure there is. It starts with the letter "D,"and stands for discipline, diligence, and determination.

Ouch.