Thank You

(I’m leaving out the obvious ones on purpose, because I don’t want to give the appearance of “ranking” those.)

Indoor Plumbing
I really can’t imagine having to go down to a river to “fetch” some water, and then having to heat it up in a bucket for washing.  You’d have fetch water for everything: you, your clothes, your dishes, your food…  No, thank you.  I always have liked the idea of prairie-living, but I would sincerely like to have a dishwasher, washing machine, and shower.  Thank You for Your providence in century-placement for this Angela.

Literacy
Reading and writing is not only central to our way of life, it’s become quite important in my spiritual life as well.  I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to learn basic literacy skills, so that I might function in society.  I’m also deeply grateful for the cultivation of a higher literacy, that I might learn deep things from deep people and know God more.  Literacy is something to be cherished.  Thank You for the marvelous gift of sharing ideas across centuries and continents.

Kitty Cats
I thank God for the silly joy my goofy feline brings me every day.  God is such a detailed Father, isn’t He?  He didn’t have to make puppies and kittens, but He did.  He knew what joy they would bring us.  He also knew that we wouldn’t know what we were missing if He just never made them.  But, He made them anyway.  And for as mouthy as my cat can be, I’m glad I have him.  Thank You for Your creative ways of showing love.

Deodorant
In my unique profession, I encounter many cultures and socio-economic situations.  I’ve learned to adapt, and my nose has learned to be less snobby when it comes to hygienic issues.  However, I am personally grateful for the use of deodorant in my life and in yours.  I think it makes us better friends.  Thank You for pleasing aromas.

Sunglasses
It’s scientifically proven that lighter-colored eyes are more sensitive to sunlight.*  I have blue eyes.  I squint a lot.  I loooove my sunglasses.  Thank You for protecting my eyeballs.

Glasses/Contacts, for That Matter
I have often considered what life would be like without modern luxuries, such as corrective lenses.  What implications would poor eyesight have had on my way of life or station in life 500 years ago?  Would it have affected my career options, provided I had options as a woman?  And I can’t imagine having never experienced the joys of perfectly seeing God’s earthly creation.  Thank You, for letting me see Your world as perfectly as possible in this life.

The Reformation
There are many practical ways that the Protestant Reformation has positively affected my life, not the least of which is having the Word of God in my language.  I get frustrated sometimes when the Church is split over silly things, but the issues surrounding the Reformation were not silly things.  I’m grateful for Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, and other leaders who were willing to risk their necks and their reputations to challenge what was wrong.  I’m grateful for different ideas, and for the opportunity to personally scrutinize them against the Word of God, without having to rely on someone else to tell me what to believe.  Thank You, for letting me know You through Your Word.

 

~THANK YOU, YESHUA~

 

*At least, I think I heard that once.

God’s Leading, or Just a Need Recognized?

I could give you a whole laundry list of things I feel like God’s leading me to do.  And, much like the laundry, I have no time to do any of them.  This begs the question: Is it really God leading me to do these things, or am I simply recognizing a need?

I go back and forth on these things.  I see something that needs doing, a person who needs helping, or a ministry that needs boosting, and I think to myself, “Hey, I can _____.  It’s time to stop being selfish and _____.”  Here’s the problem: I already struggle with cooking and cleaning on top of work and other responsibilities.  Adding to my commitments will only make it less likely that I’ll fulfill my household responsibilities.  So, why is it that I’m seeing other people’s needs as more important than my family’s?

Despite clear indications that there are things in my world that need fixing, I must be mindful of the fact that my number one ministry is in my home.  I can’t give and give of myself to the detriment of my marriage.  I can’t lead others into deeper relationships with Christ if I’m presently disobeying Him.  I can’t serve others instead of serving my husband.

So, what do you do when the ______ desperately needs a young person to encourage other young people to participate?  When the _______ need a voice?  When the __________ are struggling and you’re one of the few who can offer support?  When the _______ are hungering for a young woman to lead them?  When the _______ needs to see faithful young adults rise up?  When _______ needs to be learned so that you can preach Christ in their language?  When a child needs a ________?

I would have to quit my job and clone myself to get all these things done.  God can’t possibly be calling me to all of them.  Right?

A Life-Long Process

Dear Christian reader, press on persistently to know the Lord Jesus; seek His face regularly that your heart may gaze upon Him; exercise discipline habitually so that you fully cooperate with Him in your transformation; and love Him passionately so that your heart stays close to Him. Be settled in your heart: This is a lifelong process.
~Jerry White

I am a self-beater-upper.  I admit it.  Although I don’t believe in self-esteem, one might say I need a dose of it.  (I don’t agree with one, but it’s been said.)

I could go lots of ways with this; choose an area of life, and I could tell you why I think I suck at it.  Whether it’s keeping house, keeping my hair looking nice, or keeping myself on track with my Yeshua, I can give you a list of reasons why I’m inadequate.  Usually, I brush off any comments encouraging me away from what may appear to be unhealthy thoughts by reminding the encourager that I truly am a worm and that I truly do deserve to burn in hell for all eternity.  Argument won; I suck.  You cannot convince me otherwise.  (No, I am not criticizing God’s good creation.  I am criticizing how I’ve corrupted it.)

Does this mean I go around a mopey mess, just talking about how much I suck?  Of course not!  I usually keep my self-loathing to myself, unless pressed.  I do, of course, realize that God’s grace is sufficient.  None of my sins can overpower God’s grace.  Count me unspeakably grateful, and completely cognizant of my ultimate freedom from sin through the death, burial, and resurrection of the Messiah!  Hallelujah and amen.

However, I beat myself up daily for choosing things over Him.  Deservedly so — my relationship with Him suffers because of it.  I deeply desire an intimacy I’ve never known — an intimacy I’ve only read about and experienced on the fringes.  It’s there, but I’m not there because of me.  It’s infuriating.  But, I’m encouraged by the words above.  ”It’s a life-long process.”

I echo the most honest words ever spoken:

Have mercy on me, a sinner.

The Generation to Come …from my journal

September 30, 2009

Psalm 78:1-7

Listen, O my people, to my instruction; incline your ears to the words of my mouth.  I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings of old, which we have heard and known, and our fathers have told us.  We will not conceal them from their children, but tell to the generation to come the praises of the LORD, and His strength and His wondrous works that He has done.  For He established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which He commanded our fathers, that they should teach them to their children, that the generation to come might know, even the children yet to be born, that they may arise and tell them to their children, that they should put their confidence in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep His commandments.

I love this passage.  I love the generational charge to teach new generations the secret, holy things.  I take that very seriously, and I am already praying for __________ and _________, or whatever children God gives me.  I pray that they would have a hunger and thirst for the Holy One.  I pray for a profound dissatisfaction with this world.  I pray that my children will be vital parts of His kingdom.  And I pray that God would grant Justin and me wisdom as we prepare to one day raise up these great warriors.  Having a family is not something I view as just “the next step,” or “the thing to do.”  Just as I was intentional about marriage, I am intentional about family.  My children should be workers in God’s field.  It is my plea that their souls not be wasted.

~Maranatha

My Lazyometer

One of the best benefits of working in my district is a free health club membership.  I can literally go to this club for absolutely zero cost to my person.  It’s awesome, and I love it – especially for Zumba!  During the school year, I was going to Zumba twice a week in addition to attending other classes or doing some other workout routine 2-4 times per week.  It was easy to convince myself, since the gym was literally on my way home from school!

The summer, however, has tested my dedication.  First, I taught summer school for the month of June and a little bit into July.  The location was completely across town.  Any time I wanted to go to the gym, I would literally have to drive 25 minutes, pass my house, and drive another 15.  So, I didn’t go often, to say the least!  July brought with it a very similar commute for my writing workshop.  Not a lot of gym action then, either. 

All told, I probably averaged 1-2 visits to the gym per week over the summer.  But those few days were glorious because I would proudly display my pedometer to my husband so he could be fully amazed by the thousands upon thousands of steps I had taken!

You see, along with my free gym membership, I get a free pedometer and a membership into the Virgin HealthMiles program.  If I take enough steps, I get monetary rewards! 

Well, this seemingly awesome device has become a snotty little tattle-tale.  When Justin comes home from work, if he suspects that I have been unproductive, he just checks my numbers.  And then I’m in for it. 

You see, my husband believes that physical activity equals productivity.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t appear to value productivity of the mind.  I may have spent much of the day on the computer, but I’ve been writing!  I’m blogged up for the week!  I’ve written two chapters of my book!

And, by the way, I haven’t been on the computer the whole time.  I’m making major headway in Don Quixote.  I have my daily Bible.  I have my journal.

My mind is firing on all cylinders!  I wish that lazyometer measured brain activity.  It’d be off the charts! 

Oh well.  Physical productivity will pick up next week as I head back to school.  Ack.

Just a Love Scene?

Last weekend, we saw the movie Funny People.  Do not see it.  Ninety percent of it is not funny at all, and, while it attempts to be thought-provoking, it is not. 

Slightly apprehensive about the movie, I watched an extended trailer, and it seemed like the rating was predominantly due to explicit language.  While that does grate on my nerves when it’s excessive, there are worse things.  Unfortunately, I didn’t even bother to look at why it received the rating it did:

LANGUAGE AND CRUDE SEXUAL HUMOR THROUGHOUT, AND SOME SEXUALITY

That’s bad enough, but it forgot to mention the pornography. 

Why is it that, when it’s at a public theater instead of behind the walls of a XXX store, it’s no longer considered pornography?  If pornography is obscene or explicit material intended to arouse sexual desire, then why exactly are most R-rated movies not classified as such?

Oh – it’s art.  Perhaps you should go ahead and watch Funny People, then, and explain to me how having two back-to-back quickies with strangers is art?  And, if it were necessary to character development of the offender, why exactly do we need to actually watch these encounters taking place?  It’s so realistic and so visually explicit that I wouldn’t be surprised if Adam Sandler actually did have sex with those two girls on camera.

Assuming “art” is an adequate excuse for explicit material, it makes no difference to the movie industry.  This is not for the purpose of art.  It’s because we’re in an over-sexed society that constantly arouses and excites so that it may continually lay claim to our money and our morals.  This is a very successful campaign to keep us wanting more.

At this juncture, I’m taking a stance.  I refuse to allow pornography into my marriage under the guise of “entertainment.”  Call me a prude, but if I’m going to give my money to people who make movies like this, I might as well be shoveling God’s provision into strip clubs and the aforementioned XXX stores.  (And, by the way, giving my husband a stamped approval to enter into sexual perversion.) 

I’m done.  I will not be guilty of leading my family into sexual sin.

 

Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.  ~Matthew 10:16

Hi, My Name is Angela

and I’m a sinner.

• I am chronically selfish.
• I get bored in church sometimes because I’m not being entertained.
• I put myself before others.  (Secretly, of course.)
• I keep the Gospel to myself.
• I take the easy way out.
• I actively avoid people that annoy me.
• I’m addicted to the computer, sometimes at the expense of my relationship with God.
• I care about my blog stats.
• I pretty much think I know how to run a church correctly.  Just ask me; I can fix anything.
• I judge people’s facebook pictures and statuses. 
• I gossip. 
• I get irrationally aggravated when people think I’m younger than I am.  (You know, that’s pretty much every day.  I’m almost 27, people.)
• I like teaching people lessons.
• I don’t pray like I should.
• I can easily see the speck on your eyelash, but I can’t see the tree in my face.
• I have an insatiable feeling of entitlement.  (You know, for plumbing and wireless internet.)
• I still haven’t learned Spanish, even after three years of being fairly certain God’s calling me to it.
• I have friends who don’t know Jesus and who haven’t heard about Him from me. 
• I am self-conscious about my housekeeping at the expense of being as hospitable as I should be.
• I can’t go a millisecond without being concerned about my own comfort.
• I’m proud of myself.
• I’ve been known to play the theology police on other people’s blogs.
• I am insecure about being a good wife.
• I am undisciplined.
• I judge others for being undisciplined.
• I feel like I’m in a secret club of the “real” Christians.
• I sometimes seriously doubt my salvation.
• I think too highly of myself.
• I think too little of myself.

Oh my Yeshua.  Who am I that the Lord of all the Earth would care to know my name?

Not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done.  Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who You are!

Ate-ing, Faulty Fortunes, and Socks Slip-ups

Have you ever been having a seemingly intelligent conversation with a seemingly intelligent person when they suddenly begin recounting a time in which they were “conversating” with another individual?

Or have you ever heard that someone’s dress or suit needed to be “alterated”? 

Or has someone told you that it took a while for them to get “orientated” in a new position or situation?

→STOP IT!  STOP IT!  STOP IT!←

It is so incredibly difficult for me to be gracious when people misspeak so ridiculously.  I want to mock you like urbandictionary.com does, but I’m too nice…  Too nice, even, to give you a link to the definition on urbandictionary.com.  But, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t rage bubbling inside of me.

~~~

You know what else really sticks in my craw (whatever that is)?  Faulty fortune cookies.  After satiating my hunger with tasty Asian fare, I fully enjoy the obligatory fortune cookie that most Asian eating establishments offer.  What I do not enjoy, however, is the fact that 93.2% of the time, the cookie does not contain a fortune. 

Telling me that my friends value my honesty or suggesting that I surprise someone with flowers is NOT a fortune!  There I sit, with bated breath, crumbling apart the cookie that claims to hold the keys to the future and what do I get?  A useless statement about my character or a general instruction about life! 

Oh, fortune cookie makers, I’m on to your cowardly cop-out.  If you refuse to tell me the future, then you need to re-name your cookies “Suggestion Cookies” or “Compliment Cookies.”  The repeated let-down is just too much to endure.

~~~

Recently, as my husband and I were walking into church, I looked down at my feet and started laughing.  I was wearing long jeans that flare a little at the bottom with cute little brown flats.  My toes and ankles were covered while the tops of my feet peeked out. 

I was laughing because I was so white it almost looked like I was wearing socks.  I made a comment to that effect when my husband looked at me and said, “I seriously thought you were.”

Now that’s mighty sad.  (Shut it, Shannon.)

 

To Mr. Squirroon

[So, if you're my friend on Facebook, you likely noticed my endless raccoon/squirrel play-by-play on my status recently.  To those of you (Lalena) who may still be worried about the squirroon stuck in my chimney, I dedicate this post.]

~~~~

Dear Mr. Squirroon,

It has been nearly a week since I awoke, startled and confused, to your antics.  At first, it seemed that my neighbors were moving very loud, metal things in the breezeway at five o’clock in the morning.  As the grogginess wore off and I caught sight of my cat crouched by the fireplace and twitching his tail, I realized that the raucus was actually coming from inside my chimney! 

I have never heard such a racket.  I just knew you were that giant raccoon who somehow made his way onto our third story balcony recently only to peer into our sliding glass door and size us up.  If you could make it to the third floor, you could make it to the roof, and what else could be so noisy?  I was so worried about your fat self being stuck in my chimney, (which explained the frantic attack on my chimney flue at such an ungodly hour), that I immediately called maintenance to help you.  The last thing I wanted was to prolong your terrifying experience. 

As you know, maintenance informed me that you were probably a squirrel that got trapped in the walls across the hall.  They opened some kind of holes for you and said that all we could do was wait and hope.  So, wait and hope I did.  Every day, I came home anxiously trying to NOT hear you.  But, every day, I could hear your little feet, probably blackened now with soot. 

In desperation, I opened the flue, offered water and peanut butter on crackers to you, and created a perfectly safe and private tunnel to the outside world.  I even put down a towel so you could wipe your little feet. 

I entreated you to choose life – to choose freedom.  I didn’t want you to slowly waste away with little sooty particles in your tiny nose and lungs. 

It’s been a week.  We’ve offered you so many outlets.  We’ve prayed.  We’ve hoped.  And still I hear you in there.

Mr. Squirroon, I don’t know what to do.  Are you really stuck?  Or are you just playing with my emotions?  Have you taken up house in MY house without my permission?  Can you really get out any time you please?  Are you bringing squirroon hussies into MY chimney?  My mind is reeling.  I don’t know whether to get super-serious about the peanut butter and water or to just let it go and let you be a squirroon man-whore in my chimney. 

If you are stuck, Godspeed.  If you are a whore, may God judge you and your fornicating ways.

Sunday Survey

What’s your favorite recipe?  It doesn’t matter if it’s an appetizer, dessert, breakfast, or whatever.  Just your very favorite.