I Don't Measure Up

Have you ever thought that you don’t measure up?  More specifically, have you ever thought that you don’t measure up to other Christians?  Well, I have.  In fact, I think that all the time.

You see, I didn’t grow up in the church.  I don’t speak the Christian lingo.  I don’t attend all of the functions.  And to be honest, I was slow to mature when I became an adult and sometimes was unable to pay all of my bills on time, in full, or at all.  Clearly, I don’t have a perfect background.

But I ask you this, did Jesus come because we were all doing well?  Or did He come because we were all messed up and needed Him desperately?  Well, I think He came to me because I fell into the latter, messed up” category.

You see, I didn’t really start living for Christ until I was older so a lot of things in my past are pretty messed up.  There is nothing I can do to remedy my past.  I have done everything I can to make amends, but my past is still what it is and will continue to be so.

What I find interesting, though, is that Christ has forgiven my past.  He knows my heart and my mind…He knows everything about me.  And He will judge me one day, a fact I am grateful to know.

While I await my turn to stand before God, I must admit that I am tired of people judging others.  There is not a single living person who hasn’t messed up in one way or another.  And there isn’t a single living person who doesn’t need Christ.  We all need Him.  We all need Him every day.

The next time you meet someone who may not seem to satisfy all of your preconceived notions of how he or she should be, I encourage you to take a moment to really look at your own self, at the way you live your own life.  And I encourage you to determine whether or not you successfully measure up to the same expectations you think others should.  More than likely, you will probably realize that you, too, fail to measure up to your own preconceived standards.

Recognizing Small Gifts

Lake Michigan is basically just on the other side of my front door and, still, I take it for granted.  So, I decided to visit Red Arrow Beach today.  It was beautiful, warm and…well, deserted.  I had the beach all to myself.

Realizing I’ve taken this vast body of water for granted for quite some time, I decided to give Lake Michigan some thought as I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin while I walked along the beach.  I thought about how Lake Michigan is the reason we don’t usually get heavy snowfall in the winter despite the occasional “lake affect” snowstorm.  Lake Michigan is also what protects us from the weather-related events like tornados and hurricanes that seem to plague other areas of the country.

I thought about how Lake Michigan seems to control the temperature around here, too, to one degree or another (pardon the pun).  It’s not that it doesn’t get cold here in the winter or hot in the summer, because it does.  It’s just that when it’s thirty below inland, it’s only zero here.  And when it’s 90 degrees on the other side of town, it’ll be a balmy 70 degrees here.

And finally, I thought about how very pretty Lake Michigan is…at least what I can see of it.  I grew up on the west coast and living where I do is the closest thing to being back by the Pacific that Wisconsin can provide.  And I love it.

So, why am I writing about my affinity for Lake Michigan?  Well, it’s because of my involvement with, “I am Second.”  At the most recent meeting with my “I Am Second” group, I decided to take time to recognize the many gifts God gives to all of us every moment of every day.  I remember thinking that that would be a synch, but, boy, I was wrong.  It’s not easy at all.

To be honest, I’ve had to pull myself to a standstill to actually pay attention to any given present moment.  I know that may sound crazy, but it’s true.  And it was in those moments that I realized I’ve taken much, much more than “just” Lake Michigan for granted…

Anyway, it blows my mind that God can and does give us all so much and yet, we, His own children, complain and demand more.  Well, today, I got more without asking for a thing.  I had time to reflect on the beauty of Lake Michigan and enjoy a stroll along Red Arrow Beach.  Today, I enjoyed a wondrous gift from God.

If you would like to learn more about “I am Second,” please click here

No Ordinary Day

The last eight weeks have been filled with tragedy and heartbreak for my family.  The night of Sunday, March 18^th, my daughter was badly beaten by her boyfriend…and so was my grandson.  I’ll never forget groggily answering the phone in the middle of the night and hearing my daughter say, “Come get us, mom.”  I’ll never forget what I saw when I arrived at my child’s residence, either.  Having sprung out of bed and neglecting to even put on street clothes in my haste, I got to my daughter’s home in time to see her talking to a police officer through her tears.  I got there in time to see the bruises on her body.

Still in my pajamas, it all seemed like a dream.  That is, it all seemed like a dream until I literally felt my heart sink to the lowest point possible.

I held my youngest granddaughter in my arms as I walked around surveying the scene unaware that my grandson had been abused, too.  I was in a daze.  Of course my other children, husband and I offered my victimized daughter love, support…anything and everything we could.  Even without knowing what my grandson went through, it was still the most awful experience of my life.  We’ve all heard stories about women and children being abused, but no one ever thinks it’ll happen to their family members.  Well, I’m living proof that it can.  And it did on that horrible, horrible night.

The next few weeks were long.  Time seemed to stop repeatedly as we waited for my daughter’s boyfriend to appear in court on April 9^th, more than three weeks after a judge decided to release him on bail the day after he brutalized my child and her son.  We remained on constant guard, waiting for him to “finish the job,” meaning kill my daughter, as he’d pledged to do.

And then I got the biggest surprise I could have imagined two weeks ago – my daughter let her abuser, the man who abused her own son, back into her life.  Neither I nor any other member of my family had ever been consumed by such anger before.  None of us could understand how she could choose to put herself and her two children in danger again, knowing what this man was capable of.  In fact, I still don’t understand her decision, but have researched it enough to know that it is very common for victims to welcome their abusers back.  Having read a mountain of material and heard countless testimonials, I still don’t understand this tendency, however.  I just don’t.

And then yesterday rolled around.  Yesterday was a day I woke up looking forward to because it was the day the custody of my grandson would be decided by a judge.  It was the day that his biological father might be given the chance to protect his son from future abuse.  It was the day my daughter risked losing custody of her son, my grandson, because of her decisions.

With the exception of my abused daughter, my whole family agreed that my grandson needed to be removed from my daughter’s home…that it was the best thing for him.  Knowing this, my heart still ached for my daughter.  I couldn’t share my pain, though, because I would have been told I shouldn’t feel that way…but my heart still ached for her.

Last night, after the court rendered its decision, I cried.  I prayed, begging God to take the pain I knew my daughter was feeling having just lost custody of her son away from her.  I pleaded for Him to let me bear her burden of hurt.  I prayed for my daughter despite her recent choices.  Still, I couldn’t shake what I was feeling…I couldn’t soothe the ache in my heart.

And then I was blessed.  You see, last night, I awoke in the middle of the night to a feeling of peace.  I was amazed and grateful to have peace about this whole situation.  Even though my emotions are still raw, last night’s experience has confirmed what I already knew to be true:  God has a plan, He has answered my prayers and I will be forever thankful.

Today is a new day….God has made that fact very clear.  And I offer Him my thanks.

Thank you, heavenly Father.

Facts and Feelings

Up until recently, maybe even just last week, I couldn’t say that I was able to separate my feelings from facts.  To be honest, doing so has always been something I’ve struggled with.  I’ve always been told that feelings are fickle…feelings don’t reflect the truth…if I waited for five minutes, my feelings would change just like the weather, and so on and so on.  Maybe or maybe not because of what I’ve been told for all these years, I have never been able to separate feelings from fact.  They’ve always comingled rather than coexisted in my mind.

Well, I think I prayed about my inability to separate the two because I know I prayed, but don’t recall my prayer…and because something unprecedented has happened since then – while feeling downtrodden in a “yucky” mood, I knew for a fact that God still loved me and that things would ultimately be okay.

Now, you may think this is something I should have known long ago, but it is a fact that this is the first time I’ve experienced this understanding and I feel free as a result.  It is an awesome talent to be able to separate my feelings from facts.  And I’m hoping I will continue to hone my skill as time continues to pass.

Thank you, God, for hearing my forgotten prayer and blessing me with this newfound ability!

Friday Thoughts

Take just a moment and imagine being a disciple of Christ on this day around 33 A.D.  Imagine how horrified and confused you would have been as you prepared to see the Son of God be executed by your peers…by the same people He was sent to earth to save.

Jesus’ disciples knew He was God, their King.  Even though Jesus referenced His death in parables He shared with His followers, I’m not sure they understood everything He said in the months and years that preceded His death, however.  So, I cannot even begin to comprehend the horror the disciples must have experienced as they witnessed Jesus being taken from among them…as they witnessed their King’s violent, tragic murder.

Sometimes I think His disciples must have wanted to die with Him on that fateful day if for no reason other than to escape their own despair.  They spent three years living with Jesus, after all…three years living with the living God as He performed miracle after miracle after miracle.  Then they watched His execution and bore witness to His mother’s suffering.

In addition to wondering why these murderous events had transpired and grappling with their own grief, the disciples must have feared for their own lives because they had been His devoted followers.  What they experienced on this day centuries ago must have been similar to what happens to us when we suffer great stress, worry, sorrow, and/or horror…when we seem to morph into external observers of our lives instead of being the actors in them.  It’s almost like we can watch ourselves going through our daily routines but are no longer in our own bodies while in this state.  It’s a coping mechanism that enables us to handle what’s happening around us and/or to us.

The disciples couldn’t have had any idea of what this particular day would eventually come to mean to so many people in the years that followed Jesus’ death.  They probably didn’t even have an idea of what the 12 months following Jesus’ death would have in store for them, either.

Understanding that Christ had to die upon the cross for our sins is mysterious or even fleeting for me.  I understand it on one hand, but on the other I wonder why His death had to occur the way it did.  But I know it doesn’t matter if I can grasp the brutality of the way He died or not.  The reason why He had to die at all is clear to all of us now, including me.

Jesus shed His blood as the final sacrifice for everyone that came after Him, meaning all of us.  There will never be a need for another sacrificial altar as Christ was the last sacrifice we needed to be saved.  All we have to do now is believe that He died for us, for our salvation.  It’s simple really, but we humans tend to complicate things, even our own salvation, beyond the point of confusion.

Thank you, Jesus!  Thank you for dying for me.  Thank you for being my God.  I truly love You.

Secret Place with the Most High

I’m currently in the midst of reading a condensed book of works written by, Andrew Murray.  Neither the book’s comparative old age nor the death of Murray in the early 1900s makes me doubt that the Holy Spirit wrote through him.

Last night I was reading about prayer and worship.  Scripture says that true worship is by spirit and truth.  Scripture also says that after Christ died for us, we no longer needed to go to a temple to be in the presence of God, our Father, which means we don’t have to go to a physical building to worship God today.

Instead, as Jesus told us, we only have to go to a secret place to pray to God which, I believe, is the same as worshipping Him.  Everybody’s secret place, whether it be in the quiet of one’s own mind, in a closet, or in a spare bedroom, is unique to each individual, but every secret space allows its occupant to be alone and prevents the person from being bothered while praying.

Even if your secret place is your bathtub, it is still the place where you will face God.  You won’t actually see Him standing before you, but you will encounter His presence wherever it is you choose to worship Him.

Last night was not the first time I encountered this material about secret places – I had read about this in scripture before.  But last night was the first time I reread it in a long while and I am amazed by how much more insight, how much more meaning I got out of the same words I’d read on many previous occasions.

I went to my personal secret place this morning, the place that only God and I know about.  And my attitude about today, this very day, changed during my time with Christ.  I normally talk to God throughout any given day, but I have never started a day in my secret place before…I’ve just never been a morning person, you see.

Well, as I said, I put God first today and talked with Him for about 45 minutes at the very beginning of my morning.  And all I can tell you is that my morning, my day, my attitude…everything is just plain different, just plain brighter as a result.  I know and am grateful that I have been blessed today simply because I put God first this morning by visiting with Him in our shared secret place.

Why don’t you go to your secret place when you get out of bed tomorrow morning?  I can tell you from my own wondrous personal experience with God, you will not regret it.

Struggle

If you are taking the time to read this, I’m hoping you’ll take a few more minutes to share your thoughts on this subject when you’re done.  I’m struggling with this a bit today and would be grateful to learn from you!

Some days, like today, I just don’t understand myself.  I just don’t understand how easily I can get sucked back, back into thinking certain meaningless things are important in life, back into thinking that what other people think of me is at least part of what defines me…back into forgetting that if I am pleasing God that is all that should concern me.

For me, identifying the activities I’m supposed to be involved with is a balancing act, but my see-saw often leans too far in one direction or the other.  I fall short whenever the teeter-totter in my mental schoolyard hits the ground, which it does often.  Sometimes, I just want to throw my hands up and say, “God, will You please run my life?”

I do pray for God to run my life…but, the fact is, I am often faced with choices and I’m not always sure He is guiding my decisions.  Every time I utter that familiar refrain, “God, will You please run my life?” I wonder who it is that’s whispering in my ear.  Is it Him or me?  I am hearing God speaking to me or am I simply replaying my own thoughts in my head like an audio book?  I get the two confused, I think.

Do any of you confuse the two?  How can any of us tell the difference?  I really don’t know the answer, but I’m eager to learn.  I mean, I know that if I have a strange, mean, or judgmental thought that is obviously not good, I’m responsible for it or, maybe, something demonic is.  But, when I’m trying to maintain balance in my decision-making process, I can’t distinguish between my thoughts and what God is trying to tell me, if anything.

I have been blessed on several occasions because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has spoken directly to me.  I would describe these experiences as an inside thing between me and God.  Only He knows all of my thoughts and beliefs, and I believe some things are simply of God, like His presence, His words.  I just wish these experiences would occur more often…or, better yet, on a regular basis.  I know I can’t have everything my way, that I can’t schedule weekly conference calls with God as I can with my coworkers, but I wish I had some assurance that He is guiding me in the decisions I make both frequently and infrequently.

Maybe I don’t have this certainty because I don’t pray enough.  Maybe I don’t have it because I don’t read the Bible enough.  Maybe I don’t have it because I’m unworthy…because I was born a sinner.

The fact is, I just don’t know why I don’t.  Do you?