Whoever your peace and sense of well-being depends on, that person has become a false god in your life.
Grace can flat-out tear down our idols. The opposite of grace is the letter of law. The letter of the law is, in most cases, and in this application, an unwritten code of conduct that we apply to others - especially those we care about most. We may think we've come out from under law - but we can know we've come out from under it when our "code" gets violated, and we still don't lose our peace and well-being.
This past early-June, I was wrestling over some disappointment I was going through. The feelings were intense. In retrospect, I can now see that everything I'd known about grace was about to be sifted and fine-tuned. I was on the cusp of a whole new world - a new place in God, where grace wore skin...my skin.
The Holy Spirit said to me, "You can hang onto this intense desire to see your children walk with Me, or you can intensely desire Me. I will be your "one thing", or nothing at all. Any desire that competes with the desire for more of Me is idolatry."
Huge revelation. I cannot begin to put into words how my world stopped turning, paused in suspended animation, and then reversed both its spinning and its orbit that night. My God became my "one thing".
One thing have I desired of the Lord, and that will I seek after...
I had honestly thought, all these years of pouring my heart into my mothering and my home schooling, that the desire that my children walk with God, and the desire for God Himself, were as close to one-in-the-same as any two desires could be. I never imagined for a moment that my longing to see my kids follow the Lord with the same passion as their parents had become the singlemost dangerous idol in my life.
That's the thing about being self deceived. If you knew you were deceived, then you would no longer be deceived at all!
I didn't know.
And it is a whole new world, a new place in God, a new learning curve that has me shooting straight up, vertically, into the heart of the Father....learning "of" Him, not just "about" Him. Getting to know His ways, not just His acts. It is also the hardest thing, ever.
There are so many things I have no control over, and my children's lives are at the top of that long list. And I have great kids! Great kids....but no control over their lives, ultimately. Let me assure you, you don't realize that so much when they are small. You don't realize that so much when they are teenagers. In fact, you don't realize it so much until they make a fundamentally wrong choice, and the consequences are no longer artificial, and parent-contrived.
But there is one thing I have "control" over, if you can call it control. I can have as much of the Lord as I want. I can have as much of God as I can contain.
That night, outside on my deck, looking up at early-June stars, I chose. Then, I sighed deeply. It was a sigh that came from the depths of my being; involuntary, and revealing...almost a shudder. It was a sigh that was the unavoidable result of my letting go of what was the most dear to me in this world, placing it in the Father's hands....and walking away. Forever.
I do mean forever. The choice was made, that night. It has had only to be re-inforced since then, not revisited or remade. It will be re-inforced over and over. Making the peace is winning the war. Keeping the peace is re-inforcing the victory. And it is still not easy.
He will be my One Thing that I desire, and that (alone) will I seek after. Finally, for the first time in my whole life perhaps, no other desire I have can begin to compare to my desire for God - Himself, alone.
As a consequence, He personally looks after what concerns me. He takes care of my heart. He nurtures my soul. My soul, well-fed on the grace of God, has no need to get its sense of well-being from the performance of others - my children least of all. A mother's soul, at rest in her God, is a much healthier resource to her children. A soul filled with Christ, never has to grub about for an idol to comfort it.
I'll tell you what I know: you have not lived until you have smashed your idols. And you cannot smash them without a revelation of the grace of your God. Without an understanding of grace, you may never even know they are there.
Greater Grace...
I'll never forget my first, very personal revelation into the grace of God. Unfortunately, it didn't come until I was a grown woman, with children of my own. I'm sure I'd heard about the grace of God, but either didn't listen, or didn't fully understand. Having known Christ, and having walked with God from the time I was six years old, being filled with the Holy Spirit at the age of eleven (yes, for me a "second blessing" experience), moving in the gifts of the Spirit by age twelve, and experiencing supernatural visitations from God from puberty onward, and then hurled into ministry at the tender age of twenty-seven...you'd think I would have known of the grace of God more than I did.
Nope. And that's an important fact to grasp: I had not experienced grace in its fullness.
Have you experienced the grace of God? With all else you may have experienced, with all else you may know and perceive and understand, have you experienced grace?
When the revelation came, I remember it well. I imagine it was much like Martin Luther's big moment, "The just shall live by faith..." He remembered exactly where he was when the lights came on and shone brightly over that passage of Scripture.
For me, it was nighttime, and well nigh fifteen years ago. I was comfortably esconced in the pillows of my bed, Bible open, searching for strength to raise four small children, and be "the pastor's wife." Suddenly, I flung the pages aside, and came flying out of my room, eyes bugging. Tim was sitting at the computer, working on his studies. I exclaimed, "Honey! I get it! I understand! I'm telling you I could...I could...I could rob a bank right now, and it would not matter! Well, not that I would, but I could, you see....I can't put it into words, but nothing whatsoever can separate me from the love of God."
Tim looked at me and slowly responded, "Ye-e-e-es...." with that look husbands get when they are really thinking, "Uh...you are just now getting this?"
And every day of my life since, the enemy has attempted to steal that seed sown in my spirit that night. If having a seed-stealer hot on my heels was not enough, circumstances conspired, and do conspire, to vandalize the picture of grace my life has become. As many years as it took for me to "get it", the revelation of grace was the easy part. The concept is heady and glorious. It is the reclaim-ation of grace that challenges me to my knees, and will challenge you likewise. The revel-ation brings revel-ry. What joy! The reclaim-ation brings...a reclamation.
Reclaim: To bring into a condition for use, as in cultivation or habitation
The grace message reclaimed is the grace message cultivated and activated...grace unleashed to undo you and plow you right-up-and-over, and then rebuild you and replant you. Grace isn't merely a revelation to be understood. It also is not a gauge we use to rate other Christians. It certainly isn't a badge of having arrived. It isn't a truth that I enjoy personally, but use as a measuring stick to evaluate fellow believers. As soon as "The Grace Message" makes me look down on someone who doesn't yet understand it as I do, I've violated the reality of grace.
Grace is a way of life to be enjoyed....and a gift to be given to others who least deserve it. It exists to be lavished on the very humans who hurt us the most. It is a throne to which we point, and to which all who are in a time of need can be emboldened to run - inspired by our own bold approach.
Grace is personal, but grace's greater glory is communal. Your revelation of it is not tested by how freely you live, personally, but rather by how freely you love, communally.
I'm still finding it odd how the grace-inclined individual can apply grace to everyone but those who challenge her inclination. Isn't that strange? God help the poor soul who clashes with a mercy-motivated person's concept of mercy. That mercy-motivated believer OWNS that gift, byGod, defines it flawlessly (in their mind), and if you dare question their administration of it, they promptly forget mercy. I can say that, both because I bear (practically in my body) the wounds administered by a few Mercy People, and moreover I consider myself to be one who can be patient with almost anyone BUT a legalist.
We are to grow in grace. To me, this means getting beyond receiving it only. We also begin administering it, even when doing so defies reason and makes us insanely vulnerable.
It certainly is not a truth that we gleefully and thoughtlessly snatch up like cheap candy at Mardi Gras. Grace is lion-like, not tame. It is lamb-like, not solitary. We are the sheep of His pasture. We'll be all our lives growing in glorious, scandalous grace. The revelation is only the first step. The reclamation of grace, cultivating it, living it out in our relationships, is the real growth in grace.
When grace reclaims us, it brings as great a reformation to our lives as it did to Luther's.
And that's just crazy.
Nope. And that's an important fact to grasp: I had not experienced grace in its fullness.
Have you experienced the grace of God? With all else you may have experienced, with all else you may know and perceive and understand, have you experienced grace?
When the revelation came, I remember it well. I imagine it was much like Martin Luther's big moment, "The just shall live by faith..." He remembered exactly where he was when the lights came on and shone brightly over that passage of Scripture.
For me, it was nighttime, and well nigh fifteen years ago. I was comfortably esconced in the pillows of my bed, Bible open, searching for strength to raise four small children, and be "the pastor's wife." Suddenly, I flung the pages aside, and came flying out of my room, eyes bugging. Tim was sitting at the computer, working on his studies. I exclaimed, "Honey! I get it! I understand! I'm telling you I could...I could...I could rob a bank right now, and it would not matter! Well, not that I would, but I could, you see....I can't put it into words, but nothing whatsoever can separate me from the love of God."
Tim looked at me and slowly responded, "Ye-e-e-es...." with that look husbands get when they are really thinking, "Uh...you are just now getting this?"
And every day of my life since, the enemy has attempted to steal that seed sown in my spirit that night. If having a seed-stealer hot on my heels was not enough, circumstances conspired, and do conspire, to vandalize the picture of grace my life has become. As many years as it took for me to "get it", the revelation of grace was the easy part. The concept is heady and glorious. It is the reclaim-ation of grace that challenges me to my knees, and will challenge you likewise. The revel-ation brings revel-ry. What joy! The reclaim-ation brings...a reclamation.
Reclaim: To bring into a condition for use, as in cultivation or habitation
The grace message reclaimed is the grace message cultivated and activated...grace unleashed to undo you and plow you right-up-and-over, and then rebuild you and replant you. Grace isn't merely a revelation to be understood. It also is not a gauge we use to rate other Christians. It certainly isn't a badge of having arrived. It isn't a truth that I enjoy personally, but use as a measuring stick to evaluate fellow believers. As soon as "The Grace Message" makes me look down on someone who doesn't yet understand it as I do, I've violated the reality of grace.
Grace is a way of life to be enjoyed....and a gift to be given to others who least deserve it. It exists to be lavished on the very humans who hurt us the most. It is a throne to which we point, and to which all who are in a time of need can be emboldened to run - inspired by our own bold approach.
Grace is personal, but grace's greater glory is communal. Your revelation of it is not tested by how freely you live, personally, but rather by how freely you love, communally.
I'm still finding it odd how the grace-inclined individual can apply grace to everyone but those who challenge her inclination. Isn't that strange? God help the poor soul who clashes with a mercy-motivated person's concept of mercy. That mercy-motivated believer OWNS that gift, byGod, defines it flawlessly (in their mind), and if you dare question their administration of it, they promptly forget mercy. I can say that, both because I bear (practically in my body) the wounds administered by a few Mercy People, and moreover I consider myself to be one who can be patient with almost anyone BUT a legalist.
We are to grow in grace. To me, this means getting beyond receiving it only. We also begin administering it, even when doing so defies reason and makes us insanely vulnerable.
It certainly is not a truth that we gleefully and thoughtlessly snatch up like cheap candy at Mardi Gras. Grace is lion-like, not tame. It is lamb-like, not solitary. We are the sheep of His pasture. We'll be all our lives growing in glorious, scandalous grace. The revelation is only the first step. The reclamation of grace, cultivating it, living it out in our relationships, is the real growth in grace.
When grace reclaims us, it brings as great a reformation to our lives as it did to Luther's.
And that's just crazy.
Towards a Philosophy on Chili...
Any modest writer will not title their essay or book, "The Complete Philosophy of Education", or "The Philosophy of Cuisine". They will entitle their thoughts, "Towards a Philosophy of..."
I'm still learning. I'm still becoming. I'm still working towards full expertise. All I know for sure, is what I know today. What I know today could change come next week, when God or the cooking channel teaches me something greater.
Thus, I caution my younger readers of twenty-something years of age. Listen to those who are twice your age. Everything that you think you know today, I knew twenty years ago, and I've been steadily adding to those stores of wisdom since. I may not know pop trivia, but I know how to feed a large family on a very modest budget, how to survive twins...plus two more, how to get (and keep) a Godly man, how to lead with limited strength and ability, and how to walk with God.
But that is another blog entry for another day. (And aren't you just on the edge of your chair about it???)
Regardless of your age, I welcome your input on this subject as well, indulgent reader, as I work towards a philosophy of chili.
Chili should not be consumed in spring or summer. We have an Atchley Tradition (yes, with Capital Letters) and that is, we stop eating chili in spring, and we don't touch a bite of the delightful stuff until the first evening of the following autumn, when the temperature is forecasted to dip to forty-something. It can be, gentle reader, forty-nine. Yes, we'll break out the chili powder and the jalapeno for a low of forty-nine degrees.
Tonight, October 1st 2008, the forecasted low dips down to the magic number for the first time since last April. It is predicted to be forty-SEVEN degrees tonight. Wahoojah-amen, fire up the really big stock pot, and let the chili makin's begin. Time to celebrate.
Fire for the palate.
If it doesn't kick your butt, it ain't chili. If it doesn't give you a quasi-charismatic moment, it ain't chili. (hop around, fan yourself, speak in strange tongues...) If it doesn't leave you feeling somewhat alarmed at first bite, it ain't chili. You are supposed to shovel in that first, delectable spoonful, buck about in your chair for a split-second, and exclaim:
"THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. EEEEEEEE-yeah."
Have a hand towel at the ready, because if you aren't wiping your forehead along with the corners of your mouth...it ain't chili. Have lots of sour cream, grated cheddar cheese, and Frito's on the table, because if you don't have those...well, you get what I'm trying to say.
It ain't chili.
I think chili making is Mercy Ministry at its finest. All the capsaicin (the ingredient that makes your nose run, and makes you speak with strange tongues) in chili actually releases endorphins! Who needs a "runner's high"? Gimme a bowl of the good stuff. Who needs to be slain in the spirit? I'll share my chili with you, and have you feeling high as a kite in no time flat. You'll be swimming in endorphins, praisin' the Lord.
All that said, I really do feel humble about it. I've not arrived, when it comes to making God's Favorite Dish. If you'd like to work towards your own chili philosophy, feel free to enlighten me.
I'm still learning. I'm still becoming. I'm still working towards full expertise. All I know for sure, is what I know today. What I know today could change come next week, when God or the cooking channel teaches me something greater.
Thus, I caution my younger readers of twenty-something years of age. Listen to those who are twice your age. Everything that you think you know today, I knew twenty years ago, and I've been steadily adding to those stores of wisdom since. I may not know pop trivia, but I know how to feed a large family on a very modest budget, how to survive twins...plus two more, how to get (and keep) a Godly man, how to lead with limited strength and ability, and how to walk with God.
But that is another blog entry for another day. (And aren't you just on the edge of your chair about it???)
Regardless of your age, I welcome your input on this subject as well, indulgent reader, as I work towards a philosophy of chili.
Chili should not be consumed in spring or summer. We have an Atchley Tradition (yes, with Capital Letters) and that is, we stop eating chili in spring, and we don't touch a bite of the delightful stuff until the first evening of the following autumn, when the temperature is forecasted to dip to forty-something. It can be, gentle reader, forty-nine. Yes, we'll break out the chili powder and the jalapeno for a low of forty-nine degrees.
Tonight, October 1st 2008, the forecasted low dips down to the magic number for the first time since last April. It is predicted to be forty-SEVEN degrees tonight. Wahoojah-amen, fire up the really big stock pot, and let the chili makin's begin. Time to celebrate.
Fire for the palate.
If it doesn't kick your butt, it ain't chili. If it doesn't give you a quasi-charismatic moment, it ain't chili. (hop around, fan yourself, speak in strange tongues...) If it doesn't leave you feeling somewhat alarmed at first bite, it ain't chili. You are supposed to shovel in that first, delectable spoonful, buck about in your chair for a split-second, and exclaim:
"THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. EEEEEEEE-yeah."
Have a hand towel at the ready, because if you aren't wiping your forehead along with the corners of your mouth...it ain't chili. Have lots of sour cream, grated cheddar cheese, and Frito's on the table, because if you don't have those...well, you get what I'm trying to say.
It ain't chili.
I think chili making is Mercy Ministry at its finest. All the capsaicin (the ingredient that makes your nose run, and makes you speak with strange tongues) in chili actually releases endorphins! Who needs a "runner's high"? Gimme a bowl of the good stuff. Who needs to be slain in the spirit? I'll share my chili with you, and have you feeling high as a kite in no time flat. You'll be swimming in endorphins, praisin' the Lord.
All that said, I really do feel humble about it. I've not arrived, when it comes to making God's Favorite Dish. If you'd like to work towards your own chili philosophy, feel free to enlighten me.
On a Lighter Note...
Thanks for all the recent comments, friends! It makes the discussion so much more...."discussion-ey". At the moment, I am happier than Pooh Bear with a pot of honey. I love yanking a thought out of you!
On that same light note, you'll be jealous of what is coming to me in the mail, any day now. Get a load of this:
What fabulous joy! An adjective dictionary...and not just any ol' adjective dictionary. This one is the highly selective dictionary of GOLDEN adjectives, for the extraordinarily literate. Hallelujah-wahoojah, I get to torment all my gentle readers with a fresh, frothy, garish, and flashy use of juicy descriptives.
I will use adjectives On Purpose. Always a mistake amateur writers make, and I plan to make that mistake at least once before I die. (That mistake, and a few others I shan't elaborate on just yet...it'd make for far too much shock and awe, after those posts on "extremes".)
Stay tuned. It is going to get.....
...oh, heck. I wish I had that dictionary right now.
On that same light note, you'll be jealous of what is coming to me in the mail, any day now. Get a load of this:
What fabulous joy! An adjective dictionary...and not just any ol' adjective dictionary. This one is the highly selective dictionary of GOLDEN adjectives, for the extraordinarily literate. Hallelujah-wahoojah, I get to torment all my gentle readers with a fresh, frothy, garish, and flashy use of juicy descriptives.
I will use adjectives On Purpose. Always a mistake amateur writers make, and I plan to make that mistake at least once before I die. (That mistake, and a few others I shan't elaborate on just yet...it'd make for far too much shock and awe, after those posts on "extremes".)
Stay tuned. It is going to get.....
...oh, heck. I wish I had that dictionary right now.
Still Tired of Extremes...
I'm still tired of extremes, after sleeping on it. (And I am enjoying the comments so much! Keep them coming!)
I could live out any extreme I wanted - being sick of extremes in the body of Christ is not an issue of sour grapes for me. ("Sour grapes" is found in an Aesop's Fable...) There isn't much I don't have access to, other than a trip to the moon. I have a credit card with enough of a line of credit, I could go anywhere, or have any cosmetic procedure I wanted. I could sell a thing or two and do the same. I have a good laptop computer, now. It never crashes. I could spend a lotttt of time on this baby.
I have friends - dear and near friends. I can create and receive text messages. Those two facts alone could send me soaring into the World of Extremes, and those two facts alone account for a terrible lack of creative soul in people today - and I cannot let it happen to me. I'd die a slow death, spending multiplied moments typing with my thumbs and answering my cell phone.
I promise, you aren't really having a creative thought, when you're doing all that! You aren't tending a garden, writing an essay, or paying attention to a child. I'd almost say you are not living, but that would be a bit extreme, wouldn't it?
I have a Facebook page. I could sit for part of every day and peruse others days and others lives, or I could live my own day, and have my own life. A Facebook page not oft updated equals a life well lived. A blog that sits silent now and then, means the writer is a balanced human being. A blog that sits silent for weeks at a time means the writer probably shouldn't have started one in the first place.
I have a twelve pack of diet Coke at my beck and call, even as I type this. However, I might drink two today. I have good relationships with the up-and-coming generation. I could call any college kid in my church, and many outside my church, and be having lunch with someone in two hours flat. But I don't feel needy to prove how hip I am. The fact that these kids love me (yes, if you are almost thirty, you are still a "kid" to me - and I never thought I'd hear myself say that!), and the fact that they are willing to hang out at my house now and then fills me with enough satisfaction to be content. I don't have to be the older lady they roll their eyes at, secretly.
"Content" seems to be the watchword. It was the subject of the sermon in Harvest Church yesterday.
So, though I have the means to be extreme, and access to all the tools of extremity, all the friends, all the technology - somehow I manage to be content with limiting my access to all if it, taking what time and energy is left over, and investing it in being a whole, balanced woman.
"Balance" is a Biblical concept. Hear, once again, wise Old Solomon:
It is good that you grasp the one and do not let the other slip from your hand. For the one who fears God will end up with both of them. (Ec.7, again!)
God said it, not me. By avoiding extremes, I will end up with the best of both worlds.
I feel I already have.
I could live out any extreme I wanted - being sick of extremes in the body of Christ is not an issue of sour grapes for me. ("Sour grapes" is found in an Aesop's Fable...) There isn't much I don't have access to, other than a trip to the moon. I have a credit card with enough of a line of credit, I could go anywhere, or have any cosmetic procedure I wanted. I could sell a thing or two and do the same. I have a good laptop computer, now. It never crashes. I could spend a lotttt of time on this baby.
I have friends - dear and near friends. I can create and receive text messages. Those two facts alone could send me soaring into the World of Extremes, and those two facts alone account for a terrible lack of creative soul in people today - and I cannot let it happen to me. I'd die a slow death, spending multiplied moments typing with my thumbs and answering my cell phone.
I promise, you aren't really having a creative thought, when you're doing all that! You aren't tending a garden, writing an essay, or paying attention to a child. I'd almost say you are not living, but that would be a bit extreme, wouldn't it?
I have a Facebook page. I could sit for part of every day and peruse others days and others lives, or I could live my own day, and have my own life. A Facebook page not oft updated equals a life well lived. A blog that sits silent now and then, means the writer is a balanced human being. A blog that sits silent for weeks at a time means the writer probably shouldn't have started one in the first place.
I have a twelve pack of diet Coke at my beck and call, even as I type this. However, I might drink two today. I have good relationships with the up-and-coming generation. I could call any college kid in my church, and many outside my church, and be having lunch with someone in two hours flat. But I don't feel needy to prove how hip I am. The fact that these kids love me (yes, if you are almost thirty, you are still a "kid" to me - and I never thought I'd hear myself say that!), and the fact that they are willing to hang out at my house now and then fills me with enough satisfaction to be content. I don't have to be the older lady they roll their eyes at, secretly.
"Content" seems to be the watchword. It was the subject of the sermon in Harvest Church yesterday.
So, though I have the means to be extreme, and access to all the tools of extremity, all the friends, all the technology - somehow I manage to be content with limiting my access to all if it, taking what time and energy is left over, and investing it in being a whole, balanced woman.
"Balance" is a Biblical concept. Hear, once again, wise Old Solomon:
It is good that you grasp the one and do not let the other slip from your hand. For the one who fears God will end up with both of them. (Ec.7, again!)
God said it, not me. By avoiding extremes, I will end up with the best of both worlds.
I feel I already have.
I'm Tired of Extremes!
Lately, I've been thinking.
Wait! Come back! (Those who've known me, lo' these many years, usually find a way to slip out the door every time I say that...)
Seriously. Today, I'm pondering - not the 7 zillion dollar Government Bail Out, not the election, not even the gas shortage in the southeastern US - I've been pondering the seemingly differing subjects of personal style, and avoiding extremes. Personal style. Avoiding extremes.
Amazingly, one chapter in Ecclesiastes kinda sorta addresses both concepts, a fact which I find most satisfactory. Those Biblical "Wisdom Books" absolutely send me. I find so much food for thought in Proverbs or Ecclesiastes, my brain burps, because I'm always trying to feed it too much at one time.
Which brings me to the subject of extremes. There's a pitiful thing in Christendom, and it is people who conceal their lack of substance by masquerading as "being radical". Extremes are quasi-Christian, actually. They resemble the authentic Christian life, but are entirely human in their origin. To tend towards extremes is to live in a very dangerous place, according to the wisdom of Solomon:
Don’t be excessively righteous, and don’t be overly wise. Why should you destroy yourself? Don’t be excessively wicked...why should you die before your time? (Ec. 7)
Extremes manifest in ordinary life, and are quite easy to discern, if you remain alert. They are seen in the tendency to believe that if a little bit of something is good, a whole lot of it is better. If enjoying a friendship is good, why then ten text messages and a phone call or two a day is better. If spending a couple of hours in fellowship is good, then hanging out almost every day must be better. Staying for dinner - good. Staying for ten hours - better! If being friends is good, why, let's be BFF's.
If making your acquaintence is nice, I say we up the ante, and you be my long lost sister, 'kay??
If having a Facebook page is good, then spending forty-five minutes every other day "keeping up with friends" and pasting little buttons on a bulletin board, and writing lots of messages on lots of walls, and having lots of contacts is better. If using my spiritual gifts is good, then camping out on them must be better. If doing "it" once is good, then running "it" into the ground must be even better.
If God has called me to be a writer, then I ought to be writing down everything. If He has called me to prophesy, then I'll come up with "a word" for almost every corporate gathering. One mission trip is not enough, I must go on five trips. If I am good at administrating my small sphere of influence, shouldn't I be critiquing everyone's leadership style? If exhibiting passion is inspiring, then an emotional melt-down might bring revival!
Borrrr-innnnnnng!
You heard me. I find extremes to be boring. Because they are, literally, everywhere. Mega-churches, IMAX theatres, Big Gulp drinks, Hummers, collagen lips, boob jobs, loud music and loud personalities are a dime a dozen these days. Much like an experienced grade-school teacher will softly read a storybook to a roomful of squirming, noisy children, understated elegance is now what attracts attention.
Which brings me to the subject of personal style. Whether we're talking in terms of a woman's wardrobe, her home decor, her talents, or her personality...personal style can never be bought or imitated. It is precisely when a writer strains to write Great Literature, he begins to write trash. When anything poses as Art with a capital "A", it becomes Pretension with a capital "P". When a Christian strains to lead, she becomes irritating with a capital "I".
My sister has this gorgeous head of hair. I was not so blessed. You either have great hair, or you don't. If you don't, you could buy a wig...but I'd be reduced to admiring the talents of the wigmaker, and not your hair. So if you don't have great hair, how about drawing out those deep brown eyes? Or your smile? If you don't have a voluptuous figure, for heaven's sake, don't go out and buy one. You won't look quite right. Find a way to enjoy being lithe and graceful with the figure you were given.
If you are forty-something, please, for the love, stop wearing outfits designed for a twenty-something. Trust me....it isn't "you, only better".
Style is organic to the person. It is as much a part of the person as their eye color or their voice-print. It cannot be manufactured, it can only be highlighted or honed. Problem is, many women have spent so much time copying Sister Someone Else, they don't know who they are! In the Christian life, you can only work out what God has worked in. In matters of personal style, copying someone else is the equivalent of shopping at Rooms-To-Go. Takes no imagination.
Wait! Come back! (Those who've known me, lo' these many years, usually find a way to slip out the door every time I say that...)
Seriously. Today, I'm pondering - not the 7 zillion dollar Government Bail Out, not the election, not even the gas shortage in the southeastern US - I've been pondering the seemingly differing subjects of personal style, and avoiding extremes. Personal style. Avoiding extremes.
Amazingly, one chapter in Ecclesiastes kinda sorta addresses both concepts, a fact which I find most satisfactory. Those Biblical "Wisdom Books" absolutely send me. I find so much food for thought in Proverbs or Ecclesiastes, my brain burps, because I'm always trying to feed it too much at one time.
Which brings me to the subject of extremes. There's a pitiful thing in Christendom, and it is people who conceal their lack of substance by masquerading as "being radical". Extremes are quasi-Christian, actually. They resemble the authentic Christian life, but are entirely human in their origin. To tend towards extremes is to live in a very dangerous place, according to the wisdom of Solomon:
Don’t be excessively righteous, and don’t be overly wise. Why should you destroy yourself? Don’t be excessively wicked...why should you die before your time? (Ec. 7)
Extremes manifest in ordinary life, and are quite easy to discern, if you remain alert. They are seen in the tendency to believe that if a little bit of something is good, a whole lot of it is better. If enjoying a friendship is good, why then ten text messages and a phone call or two a day is better. If spending a couple of hours in fellowship is good, then hanging out almost every day must be better. Staying for dinner - good. Staying for ten hours - better! If being friends is good, why, let's be BFF's.
If making your acquaintence is nice, I say we up the ante, and you be my long lost sister, 'kay??
If having a Facebook page is good, then spending forty-five minutes every other day "keeping up with friends" and pasting little buttons on a bulletin board, and writing lots of messages on lots of walls, and having lots of contacts is better. If using my spiritual gifts is good, then camping out on them must be better. If doing "it" once is good, then running "it" into the ground must be even better.
If God has called me to be a writer, then I ought to be writing down everything. If He has called me to prophesy, then I'll come up with "a word" for almost every corporate gathering. One mission trip is not enough, I must go on five trips. If I am good at administrating my small sphere of influence, shouldn't I be critiquing everyone's leadership style? If exhibiting passion is inspiring, then an emotional melt-down might bring revival!
Borrrr-innnnnnng!
You heard me. I find extremes to be boring. Because they are, literally, everywhere. Mega-churches, IMAX theatres, Big Gulp drinks, Hummers, collagen lips, boob jobs, loud music and loud personalities are a dime a dozen these days. Much like an experienced grade-school teacher will softly read a storybook to a roomful of squirming, noisy children, understated elegance is now what attracts attention.
Which brings me to the subject of personal style. Whether we're talking in terms of a woman's wardrobe, her home decor, her talents, or her personality...personal style can never be bought or imitated. It is precisely when a writer strains to write Great Literature, he begins to write trash. When anything poses as Art with a capital "A", it becomes Pretension with a capital "P". When a Christian strains to lead, she becomes irritating with a capital "I".
My sister has this gorgeous head of hair. I was not so blessed. You either have great hair, or you don't. If you don't, you could buy a wig...but I'd be reduced to admiring the talents of the wigmaker, and not your hair. So if you don't have great hair, how about drawing out those deep brown eyes? Or your smile? If you don't have a voluptuous figure, for heaven's sake, don't go out and buy one. You won't look quite right. Find a way to enjoy being lithe and graceful with the figure you were given.
If you are forty-something, please, for the love, stop wearing outfits designed for a twenty-something. Trust me....it isn't "you, only better".
Style is organic to the person. It is as much a part of the person as their eye color or their voice-print. It cannot be manufactured, it can only be highlighted or honed. Problem is, many women have spent so much time copying Sister Someone Else, they don't know who they are! In the Christian life, you can only work out what God has worked in. In matters of personal style, copying someone else is the equivalent of shopping at Rooms-To-Go. Takes no imagination.
Ecclesiastes kinda sorta tells us this, when it says:
Wisdom is as good as an inheritance, and an advantage to those who see the sun. For wisdom is protection as money is protection, and the advantage of knowledge is that wisdom preserves the life of its owner.
Don't you love it? "Wisdom is as good as money."
Having personal style is as good as being rich enough to afford a designer house, designer wardrobe, and surgical enhancements. In fact, the woman with style is at a distinct advantage. Both style and riches can lend you some measure of influence, but while you can run out of money, you can't run out of good taste.
Solomon would advise us: avoid excess, and always remember....the most important things in a woman's life cannot be bought or imitated.
Fanny...
How to describe The Hannah Bird? The Fanny? Nanner-bananer? There is no one word to describe this beautiful girl...this artsy little slender reed of femininity....this fiesty bundle of smiling wisdom.
She draws all who know her into her wake, somehow. Oh, and by the way, if you are NOT drawn into her wake, you won't have a clue as to what she just said. She's that way, you see. She comes up with what her family indulgently calls "Hannah-isms".
"I have spent my entire day putting numbers in alphabetical order."
Oh yeah. She said that. The maddening thing is, those of us who know know her best, and love her most....we knew what she meant. We're not sure what that says about us. (Are we, Justin?)
Hannah is the Divine Combination of Audrey Hepburn sophistication, and Anne-of-Green-Gables wit and melodrama. She can, and she will, flat-out put you in your place, but you will walk away wondering if she maybe...just maybe....was actually paying you a compliment. She will break down and cry over the darndest things, but be strong as an oak when you need her to be. She serves quietly, in a multitude of unseen ways, and her family absolutely cannot....no way, no how...will not be what it is without her steady, upbeat, consistent heart.
Hannah anticipates your needs and desires. How many women can do that? She not only does it, but has elevated it to an art form. She makes serving look beautiful, even fanciful.
That same artistic bent that makes her spelling an atrocity ("...but there are so many pretty ways to spell it!") makes living with her pure joy. As her family, we chortle at her attempts to be funny, and we downright bust a gut when she is being entirely serious.
I treasure my mandate I had, for twelve all-too-short years of formal schooling, to train her up in the way she should go, to pour into her by tablespoonfuls, all the standardized bits of knowlege requisite to doing well on SAT's and getting on with life. Educational hippie that I am...renegade that I've always been, I do confess to the fact that we spent far more time on far more imaginative pursuits. But we did touch on all the Standardized Stuff that is Supposed to Make One Successful In Life.
She's been graduated from high school, lo' these last three years. She earned her diploma, and earned it fair and square and well. But I confess to being relieved that Hannah never really acquiesed to being a standardized teenager, or a normal, average twenty-something. Something about her spirit, combined with her upbringing and education, combined to preserve the slightly addled, delightfully artistic, passionate manner in which she seeks to glorify God with her life.
We love you, Hannah Banana.
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