Showered Wisdom

God's word to me today: no longer be captive to what the world offers but be captivated by what God offers...love, grace, forgiveness, joy, and peace

And he was amazed...

"And he was amazed at their lack of faith," Mark 6:6

This is one of the verses in the gospels that speaks of the humanity of Jesus. He had returned to Nazareth, his hometown. He was teaching and healing there as he had been everywhere. But the people there questioned him. This was the carpenter's son. They had watched him grow up! How could he be doing and saying these things? So Jesus left, but before he did the gospel writer tells us that he was amazed at their lack of faith. As the divine Son of God did he know how they would react? Yes. But in his humanity, he was amazed.

I sometimes wonder if God, even in his omniscience, is amazed at my lack of faith? I imagine that he is in that "I knew you weren't gonna believe me but really?" kind of way. I wish it were different. I wish I didn't question or doubt as much. I wish I had faith to really live like I believe that God keeps His promises.

I want a renewed faith. The faith of a child. The faith that believes my daddy can do anything and everything simply because He's my daddy. The faith that trusts in my father's words and reassurances even though I'm fearful of the monsters that might be lurking in the closet. The faith that wants to just lay back and let my daddy wow me of stories of his own making, helping me believe in the things that seem impossible.

And God's word promises me that if I have faith, even faith as small as a mustard seed, that I can move mountains. Instead of God being amazed at my lack of faith, I want to be amazed by His response as a result of my faith!

Feeling at Home

I traveled to Blakely this week to attend the funeral for my aunt. As we were driving through the streets of town, I was taken back to a moment in time (or several moments in time) from my childhood. You see, my dad was one of the only members of the family that didn't live in town. Everyone else (except for my Uncle Clarence) stayed there, raised their families there, made their homes there. My dad didn't. So when we traveled to visit my grandmother and the rest of the family, I always felt like the outsider. Let me be quick to say that it's no fault of my family's. It was just how I always felt.

Many of my memories of Blakely involved anticipation. I remember the anticipation of turning on the final road to my grandparent's house. I remember seeing the donkey on the corner where we turned, hearing our family dog bark as he knew he was almost back "home," and looking across the field towards my grandparents' house hoping to get a glimpse of my grandmother on the back porch awaiting our arrival. This was joyous anticipation. I couldn't wait to get there. I loved my grandparent's house. It was where my dad was born. I knew it would be full of wonderful smells of my grandmother's cooking. It felt like my second home. While my mom insisted that I always mind my manners, I didn't have to be on my best behavior there. I could just relax and be myself.

As we were driving down a street in town today, I was immediately taken back to a moment in time that held a different kind of anticipation. Nervous anticipation. In the back seat of my parent's car I was taken back to when I was about 8 or 9 years old. We were traveling down the same street, headed to my aunt's house. I was nervous. I knew everyone else coming to her house would be completely comfortable there. They lived together, saw one another all of the time, all of my cousins when to school together and had lots to talk about, they had the same friends. They thought nothing of just walking in the door. I, on the other hand, stood and knocked. I felt like I had to be on my best behavior, like I couldn't really be myself. Like I had to be the person they thought I was instead of the person I am. I remember having this feeling more strongly when my parents were dropping me off at some family member's house. If they stayed with me, I was okay. If I was by myself, it was a whole other story. I was fearful. Even now I don't understand why I was fearful. After all, these people were my family. They loved me.

My sister wasn't plagued with the same fears. She never wanted to stay at my grandmother's house. She wanted to be with my cousins. She thrived being with the rest of the family. She never has been one to be content just to sit still and she wasn't then either. I remember on several occasions going to my cousins' house to spend the night. I never wanted to be too far from her. It drove her crazy. But it made me feel more comfortable. It made it bearable. Again, I have no clue why I felt this way. My cousins are great, wonderful, welcoming people. They treated me just like what I was...a member of the family. But they were unfamiliar. I felt like I was the only unfamiliar one trapped in the midst of their world. I wanted to feel like I belonged, but I never did. And to be honest, to this day, I still feel the same way. I try not to, but nothing has changed. I stick close to my mom and dad. I am fine as long as they are there with me. Sad, I know, for a grown woman, but those feelings just will not go away.

I love my family. They are dear, dear people. But as I thought about this strange phenomenon in my life today, I wondered if that's how unchurched individuals feel in the midst of the church. Do they feel alone? Do they feel like they don't belong? Do they come to the doors of the church with nervous anticipation instead of joyful anticipation? Do they recognize the kindness of the people there but still feel like an outsider? Do they desperately long for someone to cling to, someone to feel safe around?

And what about me? Do I respond to that longing in the right way or do I overlook them? Do I just go about my business with my friends at my church, forgetting all along that it's not really my church anyway. It's God's church. How does He want me to respond? I know what it's like to feel like the outsider...to feel like everyone else knows everything about everyone else there except for me, to feel like I have to put on an act, to feel like I can't just be myself, to exist in a state of nervousness and fear.

Of all places where people should feel comfortable and loved, the church should be it. But as a member of the church, I don't feel like I do a very good job. I live in my own little world with my own friends and concerns, rarely noticing the hurting face of the person sitting across the aisle from me. Rarely noticing the scared individual who slips in on the back row and leaves as soon as the service ends to avoid the embarrassment of standing there alone with no one to talk with.

I know that feeling. I don't want anyone to feel that way. I must do something different!

2010: Don't Waste a Moment

Happy 2010! It's hard to believe another year has come and gone. I spent some time reflecting on 2009 this morning, looking back on what God has shown me and taught me through the year. And He's shown me a lot, mostly about submission. I have a feeling I'm going to be learning more about that in 2010 :)!

One of my new toys for 2010 is a new laptop. I spent some time today organizing my files and documents on my old laptop before moving them over to the new one. In doing so, I allowed myself to do something I probably shouldn't have done. I found a file from 2009, and I opened it and read it. This file contained letters to a person I care for deeply. The writing was good. It was complete, raw emotion. It was unbridled honesty. It was written in love. It was deeply personal but at the same time pertinent for many situations. I was astounded by the truth and wisdom found within these letters. It was obviously Godly wisdom and not of myself! But there was a sadness at the end of this journey down memory lane. The sadness came partly from the situation of love lost, but more so from opportunity lost. When I wrote those letters, I didn't feel like I could share those words with the intended recipient. I didn't feel the time was right. I didn't feel those words would be received well. I was afraid. These words have never gone anywhere past my eyes and the computer screen.

I wonder if they would have made a difference. Not in the short-term. I've made peace with that. But in the long-term. I wonder, if I had put my fears aside, if the words I wrote would have made a difference in the long-term, and by that I mean eternally. Would a life be different today? Would my life be different today? I would share them now, but that would just be weird and completely inappropriate considering the current situation. But it was definitely an opportunity lost.

But I did learn something from my reading. I'm going to do my best to live my life in 2010 in such as way as to not let opportunities like that slip by. I'm not going to be afraid. I'm not going to miss opportunities to share truth and unbridled honesty with others. And I'm going to do my best to do it in a loving and Godly manner. I'm going to take some instruction from my former boss: Say what you mean and mean what you say, but don't be mean saying it.

I'm going to make 2010 a year of taken opportunities and life lived abundantly.