Can You See Me Now?

Last month I heard a news story where a school district plans to either finger print children, or hang a bar coded tag from a lanyard around their necks.  This so that as they enter and exit the bus - they can scan themselves or their assigned bar code and the driver is alerted if it's the wrong stop.

When did we stop looking at children as people and start believing it was better to "process" them like bar coded products on a delivery truck?  Why is it considered "realistic" to accept that their driver won't pay attention to the little person walking right past them and off the bus?  Since when did apathy and laziness cross from unacceptable to inevitable.

Have we become so emotionally detached from other human beings in our daily lives that we only see the efficiency in this and are oblivious of how a child must feel to just slide his card past a digital product to get off the bus?  It must be very lonely to be a child today.

We really need to reconnect with community - the community with arms and legs, toothless smiles and button noses.  The Like buttons and Tweets are tools training us to be less engaged with real people.

How often do we ignore a real person in order to look at our phone?  How often do we ignore our kids to see what someone "more important" or "more interesting" is doing on Facebook?  What if we reverted to that time when that was considered rude?  What if we actually paid attention to the people around us, instead of the status updates by our third cousin's funny friend in that digital device?

What crimes could we prevent, what value could we bestow upon our kids if we just lifted our eyes out of the palm of our hand and looked at real people more often?

Be Careful, That Thing's Sharp!

To be quiet.... ARGH!  It's one of the hardest things to do.  It's hard to listen to people getting it wrong, mischaracterizing you or even out and out lying. I wonder how Jesus did it.  Knowing he held the keys to the kingdom of heaven, how did he bear the slander and lies without putting on a lightning show the world would never forget and saying, "Do you get it NOW?"

I know I'd do that. I remember a few years ago someone was driving me crazy. He was looking for a fight. Well, not really a fight, as that would involve talking to me about the misunderstanding.  He wanted to talk to other people about it. I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to set it straight in a bitter manner and demand "Do you get it NOW?" I kept it no secret. I ranted and whined and practiced what I wanted to say until I'm sure my husband wanted a good piece of duct tape to stop the madness.

But from God I was hearing things like, "God is my champion, my defender, my deliverer, my help, my biographer. God knows the truth and sometimes that has to be enough." It was terrible in its wonderfulness.  I didn't know if I were spiritually mature enough to make it through this with dignity.

Sometimes a tongue is best used at rest. Otherwise it behaves like this:

James 3:9-12 "With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water."

My tongue is the hardest thing for me to control and keep still. When I studied James last year, these verses were sort of like those you read past to get to something really meant for you. Today, it's importance astounds me.  'Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?' had to have been born from these verses.

I'm called to do good works that glorify God.  We're all called to bear that fruit. When I talk about God, I want to be believed. I wouldn't lie about God. I wouldn't insult you then try to talk to you about God - or would I?

Do you believe every news story from Fox News, MSNBC, or CNN? Why not? Yellow journalism isn't an oddity - it's the norm. Ever watch a report where they backpedal on everything they told you an hour earlier, because they jumped the gun? Or watch an anchor talk about someone's marital infidelity or divorce as though it's important for you to know? It isn't. It's trash and gossip, which used to be an embarrassing habit.

I was burned on a story about Taiwan a few years ago, and I'll never again share a big news story without doing a little research of my own first. Until it has a second source, I still consider it a rumor. News outlets have allowed their reputation to undermine their fundamental purpose.  To know what is newsworthy and to tell it truthfully.

Romans 1:18 "For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth."

I thought this meant to purposefully cover up the truth; doesn't it sound that way? Not allow Bible ownership, or religious worship.  Persecute those that convert to Christianity or participate in Bible study. Or, in our free country - forbid kids to wear Jesus T-shirts, start a battle against wishing people Merry Christmas, or change Christmas to "Sparkle Season."

But this week, it was brought home to me that these verses have everything to do with one another for ME. My unrighteousness suppresses the truth when I destroy the reputation of my tongue. If I've used it to gossip, humiliate, judge, or return hurtful remarks in an argument -  I've revealed a heart of cruelty, not compassion. Compassion is to have sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others. Who would glorify God in response to my tongue telling a sweet testimony of God's work, after it's spewed so much bitterness? Who would believe me?

Just as Fox News & MSNBC reveal their true character with the stories they cover, my tongue reveals the true condition of my heart with the things I allow it to say. Even the things I only desire to say are powerful warning lights on my spiritual dashboard. My tongue tells me so much more than it tells anyone else. Perhaps I shouldn't get so upset when I realize someone isn't listening to what I'm saying, if I'm not willing to listen to myself.

Oh, this growing thing is hard........

'Tis The Season of Excess & Stress - STOP!

I love Christmas. Everything about it - the Holy meaning of it, as well as the tree, lights, food, traditions, songs, baking, and smell of it.  My daughter's middle name is Noelle.  I got engaged on Christmas Eve.  Seriously... I love Christmas.

My mom was a single parent, and I longed for those traditional Christmases with both my parents, a real tree, a big house, sleigh rides (yes, in my 1970's childhood - sleigh rides were in all perfect families' Christmas memories) and everything absolutely Perfect.  So, I wanted to arrange perfect Christmases for my girls as they were growing up. BUT...

We didn't live in the perfect house for Christmas. The perfect Christmas house was featured on a Folgers commercial years and years ago when the college aged son came home for Christmas just in time – in the still dark hours of Christmas morning. There was a gorgeous staircase, a garland covered railing, and a huge window in the living room so the entire neighborhood could see they were having a perfect Christmas, now complete with their perfectly smart son.

We didn't have the perfect kitchen for Christmas. Ours was small and L shaped. The perfect Christmas kitchen was in the Walton's house. They also had the perfect Christmas horses to pull the perfect Christmas sleigh. They did NOT have the perfect Christmas grandmother, though. Wasn't she a cranky one?

We also didn't have the perfect Christmas budget. I can remember one especially tough Christmas. I had $20 to spend on each girl. It was the year of my divorce. They went to their dad's on Christmas eve and received a ton of gifts. I waited for them at home and cried.  After they were in bed I blew up a bunch of little balloons left over from birthday parties and summer water balloon battles, and scattered them across the floor to bring a festive illusion to our tiny Christmas.

So, those were my limitations... but we still had plenty of wonderful Christmas memories.  Collecting blankets for the homeless and distributing them on Christmas Eve morning.  Baking cookies and decorating them. Rooms full of gifts, even if they weren't very expensive ones. Candlelight church services. Opening gifts when the first child woke up and I was able to drag my husband out of bed, whispering, "It's Christmas... Be nice, be happy or be quiet." (Apparently his family got a decent night's sleep after wrapping gifts until 3 a.m. Then they ate breakfast before touching presents.  Weird weird family. And he's not a morning person anyway.)

My husband doesn't “do” Christmas. He typically watches me “DO” Christmas and occasionally assists with an extra pair of hands. We pick out our tree together, he gets it ready for the house and carries it in for me, and helps with the garland over the kitchen cabinets. 

Since we've moved, we now host a huge family Christmas party. We spend more money than we say we will... Every. Year. I always find some small early purchase a few months after Christmas because I forgot where I put it by the time Christmas gets here. It's a season of trying to fit our festivities around the festivities of every other person in the family – which is sort of like trying to pick a wedding date available for every single person on your guest list. With a growing family of in-laws and kids, people with work parties, friends that throw holiday parties, as well as everyone's Christmas To Do list, it's a complicated land mine of expectation and disillusionment. The space between that and the Perfect Christmas is vast and a place of sadness for this Christmas Girl.

So, to simplify and reclaim Christmas as something meaningful, not just months of build up, followed by an exhausted collapse onto the couch after we'd “done” Christmas – I started to look around at what other people did. Well, everyone in my circle was doing what I was doing, or it was such a nonevent that I couldn't possibly “go there.” I found a book. “Unplug the Christmas Machine” by Jo Robinson and Jean Coppock Staeheli. 

As we drove to Florida to visit my in-laws last December, I pulled the book from my tote and began to read portions to my husband. (Living with me must be similar to carrying your Kindergarten teacher around in your pocket. I'm always reading my husband a good book. No, he doesn't get to pick the story – did your kindergarten teacher let you pick the story? No! And it doesn't matter if she did, that isn't how we operate here.) I read to him this chapter “Men: The Christmas Stagehands.” For the first time we reminisced about his childhood Christmases and what a meaningful Christmas looked like to him. For years, he'd been doing Christmas in response to the one imagined in my head. He'd been living with a woman who wanted to make Christmas magical, but in reality she was exhausted, cranky, disappointed in the absence of “magic,” and irritated that no one was helping enough. (There are only 2 of us living in my house. My husband is an intelligent man, so when I roam the rooms ranting about “no one” helping me, he knows who “no one” is.) I don't understand why he never seems to have the Christmas spirit...

Last year, my husband put out the Christmas Village, which I'd given up on because I was too tired.  He also set up his Christmas Pyramid (Google these, they are darling.)  In fact, he participated in all sorts of things last year.  Turns out he wasn't a Scrooge, he was just married to the Ghost of Christmas Nightmares.

A couple weeks ago, I purchased my first gift. It's a farm set for my youngest grandson, Conner. A week later, I realized I was on Christmas autopilot again. It's early enough to chart a different course. 

What are your Christmases like? What are your most treasured memories and traditions? I'd love to hear about them. Do you have any pictures I could link to? I love to look at Christmas pictures!

Are We Trying to Communicate? Or Audition for a Reality Show?

Nothing can hinder change of heart more than being personally attacked. When our thoughts are attacked and our character slandered, everything our attacker says is suspect. If they are so wrong about who I am, they don't have much credibility. After all, I'm not an expert on much, but I've lived with me longer than anyone else has. 

When we're attacked and misunderstood, we dig in our heels, get our hackles up, stick to our guns, our story, our plan. We grow our backbone, stiffen our resolve, close our minds, put up walls and a million other clichés to say we protect our beliefs in a determined and stubborn way.

It isn't always because we hate to be wrong. Sometimes it's very exciting to discover I've been wrong. It means I've learned something and grown. I have a hard time admitting I've been wrong when I feel someone is out to destroy me, though. As though they don't really have an interest in sharing information, but solely in proving they are right and I'm not, making sure I cannot leave the conversation with any sense of dignity. They want me to know I've been pwned lost.

It would be easy to say those people are just jerks. And sometimes I've said just that. Sometimes I've used stronger language, rolled my eyes and wholly helped them to continue and actually expand on this obnoxious behavior by pushing back – hard! But this lack of civility is childish and immature.

Instead of valuing the possibility of sharing insight and knowledge, our culture values the opportunity to humiliate other people in order to puff ourselves up. Look at reality television and you'll see our culture actually considers this horrible trait entertaining!

It's been very difficult to find people to learn from. I'm on this journey to understand and get a personal grasp on what's important to people ideologically different from myself. It takes plenty of humility (yeah, this is a place where I'm growing – and I started as a tiny mustard seed, so I may be only the size of an acorn about now). I remind myself I want to get past the frustration, anger and hard protective shells to the REAL man or woman. 

Unless we're going to become a country of sequestered cliques, only talking to the people deemed worthy to be in our circle, thinking exactly like we think, stroking our egos with their agreement and never putting ourselves in the other girl's shoes... we have to grow up. We have to get in there and open ourselves up to the criticism and show a different way of communicating... by practicing the “listening” part – not just to twist a sound bite, but to grasp a deeper understanding.

Racism is born and raised in ignorance. One would hope we've learned this, but our continued attachment to believing people are just subsets of groups, instead of individuals, reveals we've just shifted our target to a different group. We insult, humiliate, and slander one another. We stereotype and blame entire groups of people for the actions of one or just a few. We're too lazy to get to know people, instead assigning a label and saving ourselves the time and effort of making our own decisions.

“Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.” - Lord Byron

Nothing proves this point more than when someone comes face to face with someone who defies all their prejudices... one of two things happens. They either ridiculously try to reveal that this is all a ploy and deep down they really do fit the stereotype though there is no evidence of it, or they stand slack jawed and silent... because they never really considered this to be a possibility.

Last minute addition to this post - I'm not alone... look what I found Bullies, Politicians, Me. Same same?

I'm a Nut That Fell from the Republican Tree

I vote. It's difficult to imagine ever reaching a point where I won't, however I've come a long way from my earlier political identity – so who knows? Talk radio was an addiction. I wrote numerous opinion pieces online and to the local paper's editor. I've discussed political points of view with my dad until my mother revoked my freedom of speech and said we were done. Dad's face was beet red and she was worried one day he'd have a heart attack from the frustration. (Dad and I don't vote for the same people.) 

Though I'm not a democrat, I no longer consider myself a republican either. My dad isn't quite sure what's wrong with me these days. Truth is, I see the enemy at work in the political scene, through Christians, distracting us with our passionate political ideology.

All those words wasted with no reward for Christ. Political spin and the lie of harmless “passionate political discourse” do not glorify God. It isn't harmless. It's perpetrated upon the American people as a thief of the “peace that passes understanding.” It's very design is to make you afraid of the “others”, and suspicious of their intentions. And too many of my brothers and sisters are still in the fog, boxing shadows and confusing patriotism with fighting “the good fight.”

Long ago the conversation about caring for and about our poor was distorted into a debate. Now, two groups of politicians use the poor as pawns to gain political leverage against their opponent. The poor are simultaneously pitied and vilified, but make NO mistake. The poor are NOT loved.

As never before, I support the separation of Church and state – because if ever there was an unholy union – this is certainly it. Unequally yoked, pulling for different purposes and endgame, undermining all that God is by distracting God's people from doing God's work.  Instead, involving them in a pointless fight with one side fearing cold greed can rob the needy and the other side fearing the state can somehow get rid of Him.

God has called us to love, serve, feed, clothe and house the poor and destitute. He has called us to defend those treated unjustly. If Christians will be known by our love, how do we reveal that love in our political discourse? Aren't we confusing our calling with patriotism? They aren't the same. The U.S. Treasury is limited in what it can provide by the resources at it's disposal. Our God has endless resources, as everything is His. Why would we try to limit God's grace by filtering it through a government? If our conversation says that those who are responsible should be rewarded... if that's what we shout loudest into the world... where is the grace? How do you align that with faith in a God who loved us while we were dirty sinners and provided a place for us at His table though we did nothing to deserve it? 

As politicians woo the Christian community by speaking Christianese in the midst of huge public prayer meetings, we seem to forget Jesus' words, “You are not to be as the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the streets in order to be seen by men.” (Matthew 6:5) Many of us are NOT hypocrites, but we have been swindled into believing we're represented in the political arena. We aren't – not in any significant numbers. We are pressed into battle by a misguided sense of defending the faith via the vote, instead of fighting the good fight of living the faith.

“But you, when you pray, go into your inner room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will repay you.” Matthew 6:6

Jesus never called us to sign petitions, hold rallies, or protest the government to get it to do what is Godly and right.  We need to back out of this unholy battle on shifting sands of partisan platforms.

Our calling is to the lost, lonely, poor, widowed, orphaned, hungry, imprisoned, and thirsty. Personally. Not through government, but through our hands and our means. We must get ourselves into the work... not coldly hire it out to a government agency.

Discontent? You Must Not Be Doing Enough. 101 Activities to Fill the Emptiness

I'm reading a book. SURPRISE! Why do I make the announcement, when at all times I'm probably in the middle of 2 or 3 books? I need to cite the culprit of inspiration. None of us learn in a vacuum. All deductions and Aha moments are sparked by someone or something in Heaven or this world. The book today is The Missional Mom by Helen Lee. I'm working my way through this book. This involves many activities which make my mother cringe. Notebook on my lap, hi-liter and ink pen in hand and a cup of coffee are my tools for working through a book.

I had writer's block the other day, because I didn't follow my rituals. Ritual #2 - no phone calls in the morning before I start work. (We'll discuss the other 5 rituals in another article) I lose sight of my path when I let the happenings and concerns of others dance across my spotless morning mind in muddy shoes. All those footprints everywhere distract me. One of my phone calls that morning was a dear friend overwhelmed and fraught with a to do list that would stop any beast of burden, let alone a woman of ordinary physical capabilities. When I realized I was in a tornado of anxious thought and unable to clear my way to work, I sat down with my book. Almost immediately, my heart was softened.

“For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36) This verse always makes me think of the Scrooge's in this world – hell-bent (literally) to make money they will never spend in their lifetime. “You can't take it with you.” I think of people sacrificing their family relationships to chase power and prestige, greedily behaving in unscrupulous practices at the peril of their soul, living in excessive (always a relative term) luxury.

For most of us, this is unimaginable. Yet, the enemy is deceitful, and he doesn't only harass the greedy Scrooges of the world. He doesn't serve his intentions up so blatantly. Subtlety is his middle name. For most of us, it's dressed in a cloak of what is normal expectations in our culture. Much of what we think we need are self imposed cultural expectations, not actual needs. A brand label on our clothes, smart phone upgrade, larger data plan, manipedi, new video game, frequent dinners out. You pay twice for everything. You pay your time to make the money, then you pay the money you made, then you need to do it again... for more.

When you look at what we treat as important in raising kids, it's academic achievement, extracurricular activities, preparing for a financially rewarding career with travel perks and significant retirement plan. What about their calling? What about their souls? What about a life of service? What about a spiritual center? I'm not talking about going to church and Sunday school each week, saying grace and bedtime prayers. Living a life of seeking secular achievement with a sprinkling of Jesus.

Are we secure or are we stressed? Teaching reliance and trust or fear and self reliance? There have been years I spent more time planning the family vacation than planning the development of my gifts to coincide with God's calling for my life. Random activities and new “stuff” are but a temporary soothing for the inner discontentment of an unanswered calling.

Do we confuse contentment with laziness because we aren't exhausted all the time? Is this really what God wants our lives to be like?

I remember how resentful I would feel, buried in a swamp of self imposed expectations. No one “understood.” No one would join me in taking on all the work necessary to be a “good” mom, businesswoman, homemaker, and hostess - simultaneously. Jesus could easily say to me, “Amy, Amy, you are worried and bothered about so many things.” (See Mark 10:38-42) I remember dumping my “list” in rants of frustration, hoping for offers of help. How selfish I believed people were, living a peaceful and content life when it was clear I needed help. I was completely oblivious to the obvious. This mess wasn't a mountain I needed to climb. It was evidence I was “doing it wrong.”

When you find yourself in the midst of a whole lot of self made stuff and you're frizzled, frazzled, exhausted and angry, when you know something's missing – consider this... what's missing is “down time.” Time to pray and meditate (that's when you give God a turn in the conversation), consider your calling, consider your purpose, sit down and read, take a walk, pursue that real RE-CREATION. You have more than enough going on – too much – and it's stealing your joy. It's OK to have joy. It isn't laziness to find contentment in clarity. Trust me, you'll have plenty to do – it will just satisfy you in a way that “keeping busy” doesn't.