Category: spiritual (Page 6 of 10)

here, try this: you’ll loooooooove this (all for $19.99)

While taking a hiatus from buying, I’m more prone to notice how often someone wants to sell me something. Every morning my inbox fills with at least 15 offers to save money by making a purchase. This is not a new trend for Lent; I’ve received them for some time. However, they have a different feel when you automatically delete without finding out what Zulily has on special that day – you might be missing an amazing deal on snow boots or swimsuits, you know. 

Another place that I’m more aware of being seen as a customer is in the bloggy world. I subscribe to a large number of blogs about everything from education to moms in LA (because my life is SO similar) to food and, especially now, grain-free recipes. I even follow one that tends to be an end-of-the-world-er, but he’s got so much great information on gardening, composting and living self-sufficiently. 
However, most of these bloggers are hopeful to make a buck while they put their time into it, so they have conferences to promote, ebooks to discount, even product giveaways to earn loyalty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for these writers and small business owners making their living doing what they do; however, I’m aware I’m not just a reader anymore. I’m in the pool of consumers. 
One blog in particular (that I love) is geared toward getting more organized. She provides a lot of helpful information on organizing and gaining control over your life. Yes, she even has an ebook to walk you through it (a new task every week). The reason I really appreciate her, though, is because rarely when she gives direction in an organizational goal does she require that you run out and purchase something. Instead she gives many options of looking at what you currently have and repurposing it to meet another goal. Much of what she suggests has more to do with rearranging habits in your life as opposed to where you put the electric bill. This is in direct opposition of what I find in the home-party sphere. So many of these wonderful companies want the same end goal for customers (a more organized life) but rather than focusing on the skill, they focus on the product. We begin to believe, “if i just buy this, I’ll be better at….”
And we’re quite wired to believe these patterns work. That by owning, shopping, buying, consuming X, our life will change dramatically. This is how commerce in our society keeps moving. And the more I see it, the less I trust it. Right now, the surest way to loose my confidence is to offer to sell me something. You might be right – a change in my life might be needed. But a product is not going to fix it. 
This morning I read God’s words through the prophet Joel: Change your life, not just your clothes. Come back to God, your God.” (2:13, I have no idea whose emphasis – either the Hebrew or Peterson’s). I thought to myself, “if this were written for the younger context it would say, ‘change your life, not just your music’ because so often we place a marker on the shift from secular to Christian music, especially in the life of young people. 
But though music is good, it doesn’t change your life. God’s not selling a new product to try to make life better; he’s looking for a different pattern of life, one that is consumed with the presence of Christ. God doesn’t want the same, slightly improved version of yourself in a gaudy Christianese tshirt. He wants to know that the seed that was planted is growing into a tree that bears the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness and self-control. 

40 days and 40 nights

I love the season of Lent in some sort of sick, depriving way. Kind of like a long run, I love the feeling of engaging and completing something difficult. But I enjoy the spiritual aspect of it, as well. It’s a season of daily being faced with a choice, being presented constantly with the opportunity to choose Jesus over myself. Every year Lent comes around again, and every year I find myself needing a bit more of that practice. 

However, the past several years I’ve encountered some Lenten Stress. What do I give up? What has a grip on me that needs loosening? Where can I sacrifice to identify with the sacrifice of the season? How do I find a sense of balance between challenge and reasonable?
I can start with a few standard areas of examination. 
1. Food. I love food. All kinds and lots of it. I’ve realized how much I enjoy food now that my dietary intake has been reduced by nearly an entire food group. That being said, with my gastronomic difficulties, I don’t feel it necessary to add in another reduction. Honestly, my morning cup of coffee is one of the highlights of my day. And though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind to give up grains “for Lent”, I think I’d be missing the point to sacrifice to Jesus what has already been sacrificed to my daughter. I’m sure there’s a sort of idolatry there someplace. 
2. Facebook. I’ve done this one as well, and it went smooth. I’ve contemplated a FB reduction at other points, but my current state of social solitude doesn’t bode well with a complete cutoff from those I enjoy stalking. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to get any of my news. 
3. TV. Seeing as how I watch maybe an hour a week, it’s just not enough of a sacrifice. The thing could disappear until I want to take a Sunday afternoon nap and need a movie to drift off to. 
So, here’s my only other nomination:
“A nagging wife is like the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet…” (Proverbs 27:15)
It’s one thing to lovingly ask your spouse and children to participate in the upkeep of the home. It’s a new ballgame when those “requests” take the form of sarcasm, a tone with a bite, a belittling of sorts. So I’d like to give up the nagginess altogether. What does that look like?
“Dear, can you please take your bowl to the dishwasher?” Acceptable. 
“Is the dishwasher that much further from the countertop where you put your bowl?” Not acceptable. 
However, though it’s a nice life adaptation, I’m not sure that fixing my naggy drip keeps completely with the spirit of Lent. It does offer me that choice of Jesus (and those I love) over myself each day, but I feel that there should be more. Perhaps it’s the fact that I can’t join in lament with fellow Lent-giver-uppers about how hard it is to go without (because then I look like a real hag). And if I can’t complain about it, is it really sacrifice? Perhaps it’s just a mid-year New Years Resolution. 
So, I have just a few more hours to contemplate what, over the next 40 days, in its absence will help me realize presence. 

the widow, the orphan, the prisoner…

One of my favorite questions to ask of highly conceptual and lofty ideas is, “but what does that LOOK like?” When Jesus said “Love your neighbor” I was totally the girl in the crowd raising her hand and asking “so, what do you mean by that? Does that mean a casserole or just not getting huffy when their garage door opener triggers ours to open?”

However, I’ve found that if I question some of the directives given, I usually only have to look around me to see how the commands can play out out. So when you hear the commands of caring for the widow, the orphan and the prisoner, I’ve had ringside seats to see what it looks like. 
I even have a picture. 
Exhibit A:
Before we got married, Husband and I asked Jack & Judy to have dinner with us on a regular basis and gave them permission to ask us the questions that we should be discussing as engaged and newly marrieds. We sought them out not because we were under the impression that they were perfect, but rather that they were normal. They’d raised kids and moved and transitioned jobs and struggled and succeeded and through all of it they were faithful. 
As my relationship with them deepened in my time at the church I began to see just how deep their faith drilled down, but more so I learned what it meant to put shoes on it and take it for a walk. Of course they volunteered at the church and met many needs within the walls. But the impression they left on me is how it seeped out into everything they did. 
Caring for the widow, the orphan and the prisoner isn’t a hobby but a way of life. Jack’s last position in his career was working for the educational system within the prison. Beyond advocating for them as part of a job description, they became part of a rehabilitation group partnering with recent releases to help them transition back to society, largely with a faith-based support system. Heck, their most recent love in life – Stephanie – is the product of inmate responsibilities. 
Then there are the orphans. All 27 (?) of them. One of my favorite stories of Judy’s is how after they’d had their second child and she was gearing up for more, Jack put the brakes on. But she loved children. Actually, Jack corrected her, she loved babies. But they grow up. They came to an agreement that, I believe, changed the lives of many children. They fostered. They brought in babies of all makes and models, in conditions beyond fathom, and loved them. They gave them a safe place and exposed them to a loving home. They never adopted, but I believe in the simple act of bringing them in they helped to set a standard for these children that good homes exist and they are worthy of it. Perhaps in some way it began to chisel away at a disastrous cycle. They didn’t set out to become heros, but God can use someone’s love of rocking a newborn for kingdom purposes. And he’ll seriously bless a woman who willingly enters that timeframe of limited sleep (at least, I believe so). 
And then there’s the widows. Quite honestly, I’m not sure I’ve seen J&J show up for an event alone. They were the speed dial setting for more than one older person in our church – even those with children still involved in their lives. But if Judy was going to a circle group, she was picking up Maxine. If Jack is heading to church, Bill was in the passenger seat. Something as simple as presence fulfill God’s mandate; it reminds us that we’re not alone, especially in what has become lonely years for many. 
Recently in conversation I shared with Husband who inspired I was by Jack & Judy’s example in how they lived out God’s desire for loving people. I hope that loving those close to God’s heart becomes a pattern in my life, not just another project to complete. 
« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 Michele Minehart

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑