The Flavor of Me

I’ve been reading blogs lately.  I would like to be able to say it’s for the express purpose of delighting in the literary giftedness of others and to somehow be inspired and provoked toward further developing my “me-ness” (not to be confused with my “meanness”- which would be the topic of an entirely different blog entry).  And certainly I can appreciate the artistry with which wordsmiths paint word pictures; however, appreciation quickly gives way to scrutiny and comparison.  It’s not that I’m trying to find fault with others necessarily; it’s that I tend to compare.  I think comparison is a somewhat natural thing.  I think it’s one of the ways we’re wired to learn.  From early on, we note the differences and similarities between various objects and people.  I also think, though, that Satan, being shrewd, is more than happy to offer us interpretations for our observations.  They often seem to make complete sense, and we find ourselves in agreement with the false “truth” he offers us, thus establishing our belief systems.

For example:  My sister once gave my mother a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi for Christmas.  To say my mother enjoyed Pepsi would be a gross understatement, so she was absolutely delighted with her gift.  She mentioned that she had never before been so surprised by a gift.  So the facts were: a. my sister and I had each given a gift; b. my mother demonstrated obvious joy in the gift given by my sister.  Interpretation:  My gift obviously wasn’t as good of a gift; hence, I’m not as good as my sister.  And every year thereafter, I worked as hard as I could to elicit a like response from my mom through my gift-giving in an effort to somehow prove myself “good enough.”

In Galatians 6, Paul says, “Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don't be impressed with yourself. Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.”  I’m continually learning how to do that- to make a careful exploration of who I am.  How is that done?  I find that it’s so easy to default back to comparison- looking at what others are (or appear to be), assuming that MUST be the standard, and determining that I don’t measure up.  This is how the world functions; this is how Satan would have us relate to one another.  When I compare myself to others, I inevitably relate to them as a rival rather than a brother or sister whom my Father loves as dearly as he does me and whose destiny might somehow be intertwined with mine, and someone whom I have the opportunity to love and be loved by.

So how do I explore the depths of who Lisa is?  Ephesians 1 says, “It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for.”  That reminds me of a song we sang in church years ago:  “When I gaze into your loveliness… when all things that surround become shadows in the light of you…”  It sounds somewhat cliché to say, “I just need to turn my eyes back to Jesus.”  While I’m not terribly fond of cliché, I recognize the truth in this particular one- that when I’m looking at Jesus rather than the goings on of others or the glittery robes in which their lives seemed to be adorned, I see myself reflected in his eyes, and it’s a TRUE reflection of who I’m truly becoming. 

I'm in the Lord's Army...

Cory and I and all our spiritual family who comprise City Light Church have been  studying and discussing in recent weeks some misconceptions about who God is, what love is (which is really one and the same since God is Love), and what it is he really wants from us.  During one of our recent discussions, we made mention of the passage in 1 Corinthians 13 that tells us love is not self-seeking.  That translates into God is not self-seeking, which I don’t think I’d ever have said I doubted.  Of course he’s not!  He’s God, and therefore, he’s good and perfect and kind and so on and so forth.  Sometimes, though, when you get inside and underneath what your words are confessing as belief, you can see what it is your heart really holds on to.

I’ve often thought of the church in military terms.  We’re the “army of God.”  We turn to him for “marching orders.”  I even diligently taught my sons all the words, complete with motions, to the song “I’m in the Lord’s Army” when they were little.  The problem is, when I think in those terms, a de-personalization occurs.  I’m just one in the ranks; just a part of the corps.  The whole becomes more important than the individuals who form the whole.  And while I might not notice on a conscious level, I begin to view God as one who is interested in me because of the contribution I can make to his cause.  I’ve long held to the belief that God would use me as a part of his great plan.  In fact, I’ve prayed that:  “God, I just want to be used by you.”  Sounds spiritual enough… but transfer that into any other relationship.  “Cory, I just want you to use me.  I don’t care whether or not you value me or my individuality in any way other than how it furthers your desires and plans.”  I would have no desire to be in such a selfish relationship.  Yet I’ve seen God as one who would “use” me for his purposes, his plans, his agenda.  That sounds self-seeking to me- but we’re told love isn’t so.  So either we’ve been lied to about what love is and is not- or we’ve been guilty of viewing God in light of how we’ve believed love to be.

In the book The Misunderstood God and the Lies Religion Tells About Him, the author makes this statement:  “God does have a purpose, but that purpose is not for us to be servants… His purpose is for us to be his sons and daughters, and out of those relationships, we become the message.”  This says to me that God doesn’t need me- he wants me!  Not because of what I can do for him, but because he chose to make me his child and one upon whom he can lavish his love.

I love this journey of becoming!!!

Clutter

I was sick over the weekend, and my house reflected it!  (In all honesty, the sickness I had was, in terms of ailments, not too bad; I didn’t feel all that poorly.  Nonetheless, sick is sick, and so I took full advantage of lying around and doing not a thing!)  My house being in a state of chaos wouldn’t be that big of a deal.  It was more just a matter of straightening and de-cluttering.  However, my husband has a monthly meeting with a group of his friends in our home, and of course it came on the heels of my being under the weather, so I felt a little more stress than normal in my housecleaning.  I voiced my concern about having the get-together in our home this month because, after all, there might still be lingering germs, and for the sake of these fine gentlemen, perhaps meeting elsewhere should be considered.  He didn’t buy it, though; he saw right through my ruse.  (In my defense, I really do like Cory’s friends, and I really don’t want them to get sick!)  “Honey,” Cory said to me, “stop stressing over the house.  It’s practically spotless already!”

Spotless!!  Spotless?!  How could he say such a thing with a straight face?!  Spotless- ha!  I found myself wanting to point out to him every crumb, speck, and smudge.  And then it was as if my “spiritual application alarm” went off, and I could sense the Holy Spirit peeling back the layer of what was happening on the surface so I could see what was a bit deeper.  Cory was looking at our home the way God looks at my heart.  Jesus already paid the price for my sins- all I’ve ever committed, as well as all I’ll commit in the future- and because of my friendship with him, that’s all God sees when he looks at me.  He’s not naïve; it’s not as though I pull the wool over his eyes when I blow it and he thinks I’m perfect.  But just because I live within the constraints of the present doesn’t negate the fact that when Christ died, it was once and for all.  It’s a done deal.  I’m made right with God.  Like I tell my kids, when God looks at me now, it’s through his “Jesus Lenses.”  Instead of my sin, he sees a heart that’s pure, and it’s the apple of his eye.  Just as I was viewing my home at the time, it’s easy for me to view my heart in a different light than God does.  I see all the things that are out of place; wrong; messed up… and they stress me out; and I point them out to God time and time over.  And his response is, “What are you talking about?  It’s spotless!  It’s a thing of beauty!  And it delights me to no end!”  I sure do love that God of mine! :)

Masterpiece

“Masterpiece”

Frustration welling up inside

was loosing tears that would not hide

behind a stoic, masquerading face.

The page was marred, the smudges glared

as though defiant  heads they rared

at my attempts the failures to erase.

“What can be done?” my heart did cry,

for nothing more to do knew I.

The brokenness in my gift would not mend.

An off’ring did I long to bring,

my life– a story he could sing!

But this, I feared, would cause his heart to rend.

With heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks

I gave the gift; I could not speak.

Afraid was I that he would not approve.

“What’s this?” he asked with tender tone.

“Just what I want!  I’ve always known

with this most precious gift what I will do.”

He took it in his loving hands

and held me close, then bid me stand

So that my off’ring I could fully see.

And only as a Master can,

he formed and fashioned every strand,

And I beheld my life– a Masterpiece!

~L. Walker, 2009

Gilded Cage

Painstakingly I formed and fused a gilded cage of golden hues

To house my bruised and battle weary heart,

Gingerly placed it deep inside, locked away that it might hide

In tiers of defense I had deemed as art.

With grand resolve and steadfast eye, stood guard, I did, should any guise

Of menace spear the bastion of my charge.

But as I heedfully stood my ground, it struck me the melodic sound

Once chorused by my heart was now a dirge.

Frantically I looked high and low, certain an unsuspected foe

Did infiltrate this stronghold great and strong.

“’Tis not a foe,” my heart did cry, “so near at hand that bids me die.

A deathtrap has this cage been all along.”

“My motive- love!”  was my protest, “to keep you safe, ensconce you, lest

You suffer from an anguish unforeseen.”

“But should I ne’er embrace such pain, to know love’s touch, I then should feign,

Emancipation bowed to ‘could have been’.

The time has come to let me go, to set me free that I might know

The touch that transforms heart wounds into scars.”

I understood.  The risk was great.  In jeopardy was my heart’s fate.

And I let go… Thus fell away the bars.

-L. Walker - 2007