I received a very wonderful comment/reply to the last post "My Blog Lesson For Today." In fact, I posted that entry at two of my blogs and got wonderful, thoughtful replies at both of them. "Ain't God grand?"
I found that replying to the commenters was getting to be very long, and I hadn't even gotten into what either one had said yet. So, I decided to continue blogging the topic for a few more entries. Here's "Part One: The Continuing Blog Lesson:"
Hi, Heather.
First off, Yes, you could (note, I did not say "should," though) very easily have your own blog. You write very well; get your point across well and clearly.
Blogging is a matter of "bravery" -- though, at first, when I knew no one was reading them, it was easy. Then I began to think about when someone might start to read it and almost stopped. And scarier still, since I have at least one of my blogs in the signature line of the e-mail account I use most often, sooner or later FAMILY might stumble on to it.
It makes me self-edit a little more, that's all. :-)
Thank you for the wonderful reply comment to my post on "My Blog Lesson For Today." As I wrote it, I was just trying to get the things I had been thinking about lately into some kind of orderly presentation. Mostly for my own good -- to have it "on paper" and in front of me.
When I needed to understand something, even when it came to school work, I often explained them to my mom. She would listen, ask questions that showed she had really paid attention. Even when it was a subject I know she had absolutely no interest in. Mom was wonderful that way. I thought I was unique in telling mom these kinds of things, but at her funeral last year, my brother made the same comment about how mom listened to anything he told her as if it was the most fascinating subject in the world to her, too, not just him. Since mom died, of leukemia, a little over a year ago, I haven't had my wonderful audience that listened and gave appropriate, and usually affirming, feedback.
It's the stupid, little comments that come out once in a while that are sometimes the most profound.
And while mom was sick, I tried to give her a card everyday. One day I wrote in it, "God loves you as much as we do." She had smiled so sweetly at that. I then verbally added, "He loves you even more than we do." Her smile got bigger. But it hit me hard. He DOES love us even more than we love one another. DUH! It's so obvious, once I saw it, but somehow "God is Love" just didn't seem so big, huge and awesome before that. "God is Love" means "God Loves!"
I write out a lot of what I would have been talking about with mom in our daily phone conversations. Some of it may be a little more self-revealing than perhaps I would usually make public, but if it seems to have a truth in it that someone else could benefit from, I'll throw into a blog. This one, "My Blog Lesson ...", actually went into two of them.
God loves me in a BIG way. And He wants me to be His friend and He wants to be my friend. WOW! And, He is showing me, that prayer is not the formula I learned in Sunday School (confession followed by praise followed by supplication followed by thanksgiving followed by more praise) - it is talking to Him as if I was on the phone with mom or one of my friends. He'll listen. He'll even help me clarify my thinking about an issue, a project, a subject I don't understand. The help may not be as audible as mom's voice at the other end of the phone line. But it is just as real and even better.
Mom and I used to chit chat as well as talk about things that were happening or what plans we had for the coming week. My friends and I talk about just about any subject that pops into our heads -- kind of a stream of consciousness thing, letting one subject blend into another because some word one of us said reminds of something we read or heard recently which in turn reminds one of us of a book we read way back in high school and on and on it goes.
Having a "conversation" with God -- well, I guess I got sort of hung up in the fact He generally does not audibly talk back right away. Prayer was work and not fun in the past. I'm learning I can sit down and say, "You know that story idea that seemed to pop into my head from no where the other day, what do You think? Should I run with it or run from it?" Or I can just say, "Did You see that lightening last night? WOW! What a sight; I got some awesome photos of it all. I'm glad it wasn't here, but I sure feel bad for the people that storm stalled over, though -- five hours of rain and thunder. Must have been hard to sleep through all that." Sure, I know He saw the lightening. And I know some of the people in the church where I grew up would be very aghast that anyone would talk to God in such a casual way. But, if He really is my FRIEND, then ceremony and pomp are not necessary.
Paul writes that because we have so great a High Priest, who is our mediator, that we should "come BOLDLY then to the throne of grace." Perhaps, not as casually as I do -- but I know one thing:
The story of Queen Esther teaches me about God's love for me. When Esther went to the king, it was not easy to do. It meant travelling by chariot or slave-carried litter from her Queen's palace, miles away (but within the same palace grounds), walking up a long corridor of relief sculptures all designed to prove how great and powerful the king was and how insignificant the guest was, then enter the throne room through big, huge, heavy double doors twenty or thirty feet tall (I don't remember the exact details from the Art History course I had). On top of that, it was illegal to enter the throne room unless sent for. To enter was a death sentence.
It is a symbol of the Holy of Holies of the Jewish Tabernacle, or later the Temple. And it was punishable by death to enter there if you were not the one who was allowed to enter, and only after certain preparations were made.
However, the King loved his wife so much that he immediately held out his scepter to her to indicate his approval of her presence there.
God loves us more than any person can love another person. He extends His scepter to us every time. He welcomes us, hears us and smiles on us for coming.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Blogdom Lesson for Today
**sigh**
Ever since I discovered a certain three blogs, I log on to the Net just about every day just so I can check in with those ladies, hoping they have posted something new.
Sadly, I regret to admit -- I am not that regular, or eager, to check in daily with the one friend I have who is the best friend I'll ever have. This friend will never, ever blab my secrets to anyone else. This friend will never, ever abandon me when I am depressed, grouchy, whiny, have a stuffy runny nose, feel bloated and feeling ugly and maybe even acting a bit ugly. This friend will never, ever leave me to fend for myself, even when I've gotten myself into the mess by my own stupid actions or decisions. This friend is rich -- far richer than even Bill Gates. This friend is powerful -- far more powerful than OPEC or NATO (combined). This friend is important -- far more important than any head of state, even the Queen of England or the King of Sweden.
Amazingly, this wonderful friend WANTS to be my friend. And even more amazing, to me, wants me to be a friend in return.
I mean, me? I'm not rich, beautiful, important, powerful. I cannot add anything to my friend's treasures or jewels or accomplishments. I'm not someone that anyone important or rich or powerful even takes notice of. I'm just one of the millions of minions that hope to be noticed and maybe get a handshake or a wave from the rich and powerful.
Yet, I have a friend who is rich and powerful.
And, I am not as eager to check in with this friend every day like I am with these interesting bloggers?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
No, seriously, what IS wrong with me?
If you had a friend, a best friend, like that, wouldn't you want to spend all of your time with that friend? Wouldn't you want to check in everyday at the very least to have a chat? Wouldn't you be eager to meet up with your friend as often as possible?
If you had a friend who was so much more than you were yet wanted to be your friend, wanted to have you as a friend, AND who never let you feel like you were something less than or inferior to him or her, and never made you feel like a tag-along in their shadow, wouldn't you just be head-over-heels in love with your friend?
So, why am I afraid of my friend?
It can't be that my friend knows all about me. I mean, that's one of the definitions of "friend" -- someone who knows all about you but loves you anyhow.
It can't be that my friend will scold me for staying away so long. Instead, I'll hear "Come on in. I've been hoping you would show up today! Oh, friend, I've missed you! Glad you're here now."
Could it be that it's because I didn't do what I said I wanted to do, but then later changed my mind? I doubt that. I'm pretty sure my friend would say, "Why didn't you come to me for help?" And I would say, "I wasn't sure it was what I really wanted to do after all." "You know, you can always talk these things over with me. I'll gladly listen anytime. I'll even try to point you in the right direction if you'll let me." (My friend isn't pushy.)
Is it because I think I have to change or do certain things so that my friend will keep liking me and keep on wanting to be my friend? Is it because someone else told me I'm not good enough to be friends with my friend?
I honestly don't know what keeps me away.
By now, you've probably figured out who my friend is. The God of the Universe, Jehovah Himself.
He wants to be my friend. He wants me to be His friend.
And, here I am, someone who knows an awful lot about Him but knows Him very little.
I've been working on a novel, based on a scenario of "what might have been if ..." I had made different decisions years ago. And then suddenly I began avoiding working on that story. Not because the actual decisions or consequences or subject matter I chose to be the "hot issue" of the story were troubling or difficult to write about. On the contrary. It was all hitting the computer screen almost too easily.
At first, I said I was not working on the story because I did not like the ending I had concocted and wanted a better one before I went any further. A better ending came a long and still I didn't want to write it down. Back and forth it went. For each excuse, a solution was found; and a new excuse was invented.
Finally, I knew the reason.
And it is not a happy thought.
Even though I made one decision and the character makes the opposite one, the consequences are horrifically different for us -- for her far worse than I ever faced (and I'm happy that "facing" it is just in the form of imagination and fiction for me), in the end, twenty years later, we are not that different. And, here I thought we were different. I thought I had a pretty good life and had grown in my faith. In truth, we both must face similar persistent fears and doubts, face the heartaches that have shaped us and embrace them as important aspects of who we are, and acknowledge the need for a deeper (much deeper) faith.
There is a mad sort of comfort in clinging to a rope that is studded with nails and broken glass that dangles above a black pit of unknown. The nails and glass cut and stab my palms and fingers as I cling to the rope, but the rope is strong and is known; the pain is unbearable but it is far less frightening than the pit below that is unknown, untried, unmapped, uncertain.
Both the character and I have to let go of the rope and fall into the pit. At the bottom, through the darkness, waiting for us is my Friend, who WILL catch me, who WILL hold me, who WILL protect me and love me and yes, I noticed I moved from "us" to "me" -- in the end, that's what the story is about. Her journey is the journey I must take.
Okay, that's why I am avoiding the novel. Is that why I am avoiding meeting with my friend?
It's because I have to let go of the rope and fall ...
Ever since I discovered a certain three blogs, I log on to the Net just about every day just so I can check in with those ladies, hoping they have posted something new.
Sadly, I regret to admit -- I am not that regular, or eager, to check in daily with the one friend I have who is the best friend I'll ever have. This friend will never, ever blab my secrets to anyone else. This friend will never, ever abandon me when I am depressed, grouchy, whiny, have a stuffy runny nose, feel bloated and feeling ugly and maybe even acting a bit ugly. This friend will never, ever leave me to fend for myself, even when I've gotten myself into the mess by my own stupid actions or decisions. This friend is rich -- far richer than even Bill Gates. This friend is powerful -- far more powerful than OPEC or NATO (combined). This friend is important -- far more important than any head of state, even the Queen of England or the King of Sweden.
Amazingly, this wonderful friend WANTS to be my friend. And even more amazing, to me, wants me to be a friend in return.
I mean, me? I'm not rich, beautiful, important, powerful. I cannot add anything to my friend's treasures or jewels or accomplishments. I'm not someone that anyone important or rich or powerful even takes notice of. I'm just one of the millions of minions that hope to be noticed and maybe get a handshake or a wave from the rich and powerful.
Yet, I have a friend who is rich and powerful.
And, I am not as eager to check in with this friend every day like I am with these interesting bloggers?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
No, seriously, what IS wrong with me?
If you had a friend, a best friend, like that, wouldn't you want to spend all of your time with that friend? Wouldn't you want to check in everyday at the very least to have a chat? Wouldn't you be eager to meet up with your friend as often as possible?
If you had a friend who was so much more than you were yet wanted to be your friend, wanted to have you as a friend, AND who never let you feel like you were something less than or inferior to him or her, and never made you feel like a tag-along in their shadow, wouldn't you just be head-over-heels in love with your friend?
So, why am I afraid of my friend?
It can't be that my friend knows all about me. I mean, that's one of the definitions of "friend" -- someone who knows all about you but loves you anyhow.
It can't be that my friend will scold me for staying away so long. Instead, I'll hear "Come on in. I've been hoping you would show up today! Oh, friend, I've missed you! Glad you're here now."
Could it be that it's because I didn't do what I said I wanted to do, but then later changed my mind? I doubt that. I'm pretty sure my friend would say, "Why didn't you come to me for help?" And I would say, "I wasn't sure it was what I really wanted to do after all." "You know, you can always talk these things over with me. I'll gladly listen anytime. I'll even try to point you in the right direction if you'll let me." (My friend isn't pushy.)
Is it because I think I have to change or do certain things so that my friend will keep liking me and keep on wanting to be my friend? Is it because someone else told me I'm not good enough to be friends with my friend?
I honestly don't know what keeps me away.
By now, you've probably figured out who my friend is. The God of the Universe, Jehovah Himself.
He wants to be my friend. He wants me to be His friend.
And, here I am, someone who knows an awful lot about Him but knows Him very little.
I've been working on a novel, based on a scenario of "what might have been if ..." I had made different decisions years ago. And then suddenly I began avoiding working on that story. Not because the actual decisions or consequences or subject matter I chose to be the "hot issue" of the story were troubling or difficult to write about. On the contrary. It was all hitting the computer screen almost too easily.
At first, I said I was not working on the story because I did not like the ending I had concocted and wanted a better one before I went any further. A better ending came a long and still I didn't want to write it down. Back and forth it went. For each excuse, a solution was found; and a new excuse was invented.
Finally, I knew the reason.
And it is not a happy thought.
Even though I made one decision and the character makes the opposite one, the consequences are horrifically different for us -- for her far worse than I ever faced (and I'm happy that "facing" it is just in the form of imagination and fiction for me), in the end, twenty years later, we are not that different. And, here I thought we were different. I thought I had a pretty good life and had grown in my faith. In truth, we both must face similar persistent fears and doubts, face the heartaches that have shaped us and embrace them as important aspects of who we are, and acknowledge the need for a deeper (much deeper) faith.
There is a mad sort of comfort in clinging to a rope that is studded with nails and broken glass that dangles above a black pit of unknown. The nails and glass cut and stab my palms and fingers as I cling to the rope, but the rope is strong and is known; the pain is unbearable but it is far less frightening than the pit below that is unknown, untried, unmapped, uncertain.
Both the character and I have to let go of the rope and fall into the pit. At the bottom, through the darkness, waiting for us is my Friend, who WILL catch me, who WILL hold me, who WILL protect me and love me and yes, I noticed I moved from "us" to "me" -- in the end, that's what the story is about. Her journey is the journey I must take.
Okay, that's why I am avoiding the novel. Is that why I am avoiding meeting with my friend?
It's because I have to let go of the rope and fall ...
Thursday, August 16, 2007
How Little Things Work Out Sometimes
It was one of those days.
It started yesterday. I was just plain tired all day. [I don't know if it was that I was really tired or that I was trying to avoid working on the story that is perculating through my brain these last three weeks. I know I am avoiding writing it down because it will be emotionally draining to work with it, as the heroine has to face some rather unpleasant facts about herself -- nothing "nasty" but just very deep-seated fears and a long-standing inability to trust anyone.] Slept more of the day than I was awake. Finally went to bed, for the final time of the day around 3 AM. (My hubby works second shift and our usual bedtime, after dinner and all once he gets home around 12:30-1:00 AM, is 3 to 4 AM.)
Our little kitty woke me around 5:30, 6:30 and 7:30; not intentionally, but she just loves to cuddle or climb on top of me and lay her chin on my cheek, or drape herself over my arm, or stick her cold nose on my chin as she snuggles in on my shoulder. Finally, I got up at 10. Much earlier for me than usual. Well, about an hour and a half "early." I know, for most of the world, the day is almost done by the time I am waking up.
I was headed to a friend's house today and was ready to leave by 10:30 AM. WOW! For once, I might have been early. No, I better not, I thought. She probably wouldn't be home until the "appointed" time. So, I opened up the laptop and clicked into one of the blogs I check out from time to time.
Nothing new there, and I honestly don't know whether I followed links from that blog or from another one ... but eventually I ended up at the blog kept by Lisa Samson, a published author, not just a writer wannabee. Reading through her recent posts was fun.
I found one from August 6th that is, I think, profound. And I want to share it with you. Copy and paste the link below into your browser and go visit Lisa's blog. Post a comment there and then maybe come back here and let me know you visited Lisa's blog. Okay?
http://lisasamson.typepad.com/blog/2007/08/whats-at-the-ce.html
After reading the entry to her blog, I clicked on one of the books at the top of the page to find out what her fiction writing is like. While I was doing that, one of my sisters called and we chatted for a while. Then I finally was able to head to my friends's house. Late, as usual!
However, if I had left early, I would not have encountered that blog or that entry; I would have missed talking with my sister; and would not have been touched by the profound nature of the insight in that entry.
My own writing, very recently, has dealt with this topic to a large degree. A bumper sticker I saw recently says, "Writers drive and plot. Scared yet?" Well, it is true. I plot as I drive. I finagle plot twists. I dream up new plot twists.
And today, for the hour drive to my friend's house, and for the hour back home, I ran the plot through that insight like drawing thread through wax for quilting -- the wax strengthens the thread, makes it easier to continually pull through all the layers of fabric, and helps keep it from fraying from all that stress put on it as it passes through the layers.
When I go to my friend's house, we talk writing, the stories we are each working on, and we make greeting cards using rubber stamps and whatever other art supplies we have on hand that day. Since I got there later today than anticiapted, we didn't bother with the ink and the cardstock. We trimmed sets of stamps that have been just lanquishing in the boxes they arrived in (up to two years ago!). And the next time we get together, the stamps will be all ready to be used. :-)
It was a very productive day, actually! WOO HOO!
It started yesterday. I was just plain tired all day. [I don't know if it was that I was really tired or that I was trying to avoid working on the story that is perculating through my brain these last three weeks. I know I am avoiding writing it down because it will be emotionally draining to work with it, as the heroine has to face some rather unpleasant facts about herself -- nothing "nasty" but just very deep-seated fears and a long-standing inability to trust anyone.] Slept more of the day than I was awake. Finally went to bed, for the final time of the day around 3 AM. (My hubby works second shift and our usual bedtime, after dinner and all once he gets home around 12:30-1:00 AM, is 3 to 4 AM.)
Our little kitty woke me around 5:30, 6:30 and 7:30; not intentionally, but she just loves to cuddle or climb on top of me and lay her chin on my cheek, or drape herself over my arm, or stick her cold nose on my chin as she snuggles in on my shoulder. Finally, I got up at 10. Much earlier for me than usual. Well, about an hour and a half "early." I know, for most of the world, the day is almost done by the time I am waking up.
I was headed to a friend's house today and was ready to leave by 10:30 AM. WOW! For once, I might have been early. No, I better not, I thought. She probably wouldn't be home until the "appointed" time. So, I opened up the laptop and clicked into one of the blogs I check out from time to time.
Nothing new there, and I honestly don't know whether I followed links from that blog or from another one ... but eventually I ended up at the blog kept by Lisa Samson, a published author, not just a writer wannabee. Reading through her recent posts was fun.
I found one from August 6th that is, I think, profound. And I want to share it with you. Copy and paste the link below into your browser and go visit Lisa's blog. Post a comment there and then maybe come back here and let me know you visited Lisa's blog. Okay?
http://lisasamson.typepad.com/blog/2007/08/whats-at-the-ce.html
After reading the entry to her blog, I clicked on one of the books at the top of the page to find out what her fiction writing is like. While I was doing that, one of my sisters called and we chatted for a while. Then I finally was able to head to my friends's house. Late, as usual!
However, if I had left early, I would not have encountered that blog or that entry; I would have missed talking with my sister; and would not have been touched by the profound nature of the insight in that entry.
My own writing, very recently, has dealt with this topic to a large degree. A bumper sticker I saw recently says, "Writers drive and plot. Scared yet?" Well, it is true. I plot as I drive. I finagle plot twists. I dream up new plot twists.
And today, for the hour drive to my friend's house, and for the hour back home, I ran the plot through that insight like drawing thread through wax for quilting -- the wax strengthens the thread, makes it easier to continually pull through all the layers of fabric, and helps keep it from fraying from all that stress put on it as it passes through the layers.
When I go to my friend's house, we talk writing, the stories we are each working on, and we make greeting cards using rubber stamps and whatever other art supplies we have on hand that day. Since I got there later today than anticiapted, we didn't bother with the ink and the cardstock. We trimmed sets of stamps that have been just lanquishing in the boxes they arrived in (up to two years ago!). And the next time we get together, the stamps will be all ready to be used. :-)
It was a very productive day, actually! WOO HOO!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
We Are ALL Sinners
It was a news headline last night at AOL.com -- about the church that cancelled the memorial service. I didn't take the time when I first saw it to click on the link to find out what it was about. My husband, Peter, found it on MSN.com this morning and is now in his office in the basement making posts to the "let us know what you think" link. If you haven't seen the story, here it is:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20221295/
And if you would like to know more about the pastor or the church that did this, here is the link to their website that I found through dogpile.com:
www.churchunusual.com
I could write tons and tons about this. In fact, I am writing tons and tons about it. It touches close to me. Not because it involves the issue of homosexuality but because it touches the whole foundation of Christianity: God's Grace.
One day I will get all my thoughts on paper and get them into some semblance of reasonable order, then send it off and hopefully find a publisher. In the meantime, I'll post a little bit of it here.
I looked around the church's website and found a number of flags that would keep me from attending there if I lived in the Arlington area. And found a couple things that disturb me about this place.
1. They claim they have an "accepting atmosphere."
2. They want the congregation to tithe.
3. They focus on the "life-changing" message of the gospel.
4. And only through obedience do miracles occur.
But, that is not the topic of discussion here. I may return to some of those in future posts, though.
You see, the claim that the reason the memorial service was cancelled was that to do it would mean they condoned the deceased lifestyle, is saying "Uh, he was a sinner. We can't condone that."
Last time I checked, the unforgivable sin was not homosexuality, abortion, gambling, Internet pornography, divorce, or teen sex.
It is exchanging the free gift of grace for the burden of Law; exchanging the garments of grace for the rags of being a "good Christian."
This Sunday morning, how many pastors are in their pulpits supporting this pastor's decision to cancel the memorial service? How many are ignoring it? And how many are deploring it? Last, how many are just acknowledging the fact that we are all sinners?
Oh, homosexuality is so dangerous because there is this "homosexual agenda." Okay. What about the "gossip's agenda," the "envy agenda," the "greed agenda," etc.? Our culture and economy revolve around Greed and Envy. Madison Avenue relies on our sense of envy. Wall Street is fueled by greed. And TV news is more about celebrity gossip than real hard news facts.
Everyone is a sinner. No one is perfect.
I remember hearing that there are 365 "thou shalt not" laws in the Old Testament. I don't remember how many "thou shalt" ones there are. So, there is no way we could keep every Law and be "perfect" under that system! I mean, right now, I am guilty of at least one of the "thou shalt not" laws: you will not wear cloth that is woven of more than one type of fiber. I happen to be wearing a tank top that is a cotton-polyester blend. Oh no! And by doing so, I am now a "sinner" because I have broken a Law.
Therefore, the church that would deny a memorial service to someone who was a homosexual, better also deny it to anyone who is buried in clothing of mixed fibers; should deny such a service to anyone who ever envied his neighbor or coveted his neighbor's car or greener grass; should deny a service for anyone who worked on a Sunday or Saturday (depending on your definition of "Sabbath"); should deny a service to anyone who ever ate pork or shellfish or pizza with both cheese and a meat on it.
Get real!
I have broken one Law, so far today, and I am now guilty of the entire Law. I now face the penalty of breaking the Law: eternal separation from God. However, I am forgiven. I am under grace. And while grace is not a license to sin, it also does not require complete obedience to the Law. In fact, if I choose to "keep a Law," I am choosing to live under Law (Galations 3) -- and am cursed by the Law. If I choose to live in grace, then I am free of the curse of the Law.
We are all sinners. All. Even Pastor Gary Simons of High Point Church in Arlington, TX. Even April Simons, his wife. All.
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." Let he who is without sin deny ministry to those who do sin. Otherwise, get over yourself.
Get your focus off your self and your righteousness and put your focus back where it belongs, on the God who loves you, the God who became a Man for you, the God who died for your sins, the God who forgives you and loves you even though you are flawed and sinful. Focus on Him so intently that you see yourself and others in His eyes alone, not through some filter of what you think a worthy person is or what a "good Christian" is or what you think anyone is or should be. See them the way God sees them.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20221295/
And if you would like to know more about the pastor or the church that did this, here is the link to their website that I found through dogpile.com:
www.churchunusual.com
I could write tons and tons about this. In fact, I am writing tons and tons about it. It touches close to me. Not because it involves the issue of homosexuality but because it touches the whole foundation of Christianity: God's Grace.
One day I will get all my thoughts on paper and get them into some semblance of reasonable order, then send it off and hopefully find a publisher. In the meantime, I'll post a little bit of it here.
I looked around the church's website and found a number of flags that would keep me from attending there if I lived in the Arlington area. And found a couple things that disturb me about this place.
1. They claim they have an "accepting atmosphere."
2. They want the congregation to tithe.
3. They focus on the "life-changing" message of the gospel.
4. And only through obedience do miracles occur.
But, that is not the topic of discussion here. I may return to some of those in future posts, though.
You see, the claim that the reason the memorial service was cancelled was that to do it would mean they condoned the deceased lifestyle, is saying "Uh, he was a sinner. We can't condone that."
Last time I checked, the unforgivable sin was not homosexuality, abortion, gambling, Internet pornography, divorce, or teen sex.
It is exchanging the free gift of grace for the burden of Law; exchanging the garments of grace for the rags of being a "good Christian."
This Sunday morning, how many pastors are in their pulpits supporting this pastor's decision to cancel the memorial service? How many are ignoring it? And how many are deploring it? Last, how many are just acknowledging the fact that we are all sinners?
Oh, homosexuality is so dangerous because there is this "homosexual agenda." Okay. What about the "gossip's agenda," the "envy agenda," the "greed agenda," etc.? Our culture and economy revolve around Greed and Envy. Madison Avenue relies on our sense of envy. Wall Street is fueled by greed. And TV news is more about celebrity gossip than real hard news facts.
Everyone is a sinner. No one is perfect.
I remember hearing that there are 365 "thou shalt not" laws in the Old Testament. I don't remember how many "thou shalt" ones there are. So, there is no way we could keep every Law and be "perfect" under that system! I mean, right now, I am guilty of at least one of the "thou shalt not" laws: you will not wear cloth that is woven of more than one type of fiber. I happen to be wearing a tank top that is a cotton-polyester blend. Oh no! And by doing so, I am now a "sinner" because I have broken a Law.
Therefore, the church that would deny a memorial service to someone who was a homosexual, better also deny it to anyone who is buried in clothing of mixed fibers; should deny such a service to anyone who ever envied his neighbor or coveted his neighbor's car or greener grass; should deny a service for anyone who worked on a Sunday or Saturday (depending on your definition of "Sabbath"); should deny a service to anyone who ever ate pork or shellfish or pizza with both cheese and a meat on it.
Get real!
I have broken one Law, so far today, and I am now guilty of the entire Law. I now face the penalty of breaking the Law: eternal separation from God. However, I am forgiven. I am under grace. And while grace is not a license to sin, it also does not require complete obedience to the Law. In fact, if I choose to "keep a Law," I am choosing to live under Law (Galations 3) -- and am cursed by the Law. If I choose to live in grace, then I am free of the curse of the Law.
We are all sinners. All. Even Pastor Gary Simons of High Point Church in Arlington, TX. Even April Simons, his wife. All.
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." Let he who is without sin deny ministry to those who do sin. Otherwise, get over yourself.
Get your focus off your self and your righteousness and put your focus back where it belongs, on the God who loves you, the God who became a Man for you, the God who died for your sins, the God who forgives you and loves you even though you are flawed and sinful. Focus on Him so intently that you see yourself and others in His eyes alone, not through some filter of what you think a worthy person is or what a "good Christian" is or what you think anyone is or should be. See them the way God sees them.
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