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Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Faith & Storms

Since I had my meltdown the other day, I am feeling better. I did a lot of praying after I finished that crazed, angry, and ranting post. My body started to feel better several hours after my infusion. I thought about deleting that post but decided to leave it up because of this one. Maybe it will help someone else to see the pair of them so they know that even severe "storms" pass over if we just give it time.

The first thought that came into my mind once I started feeling better was a self-rebuking "How dare you?" Seriously, who am I to feel sorry for myself? There are people in the world who would give everything to be at my lowest. I am a spoiled, first-world, insufferable jerk sometimes.

While at infusion, I see people who are dealing with diseases that make mine look like a bad cold. I'm not exaggerating. There was a 20-ish-looking guy in the ward who is fighting something that requires an infusion of meds so powerful that his chair is damn near sealed off from the rest of us - and there are chemo patients there. He was with a sweet-faced child-woman who looked younger than he did. She was wearing a wedding band and that just about broke my heart. Can you even imagine their struggle? Back in Anchorage, one of my doctors was treating children.  Those babies probably have never known a normal childhood but... here's me, drowning in tears for myself instead of praying for those people. Instead of being thankful.

Now that I am thinking more clearly, I don't know where I get the nerve to sit on my pity pot for even five minutes. Yes, I have to deal with a very inconvenient illness and I do wish I could turn back the clock to a time before all this, but I can't. This is called life. Life is not scripted to have something wonderful happen every 30 minutes. Life can be sad and disappointing and a struggle. And this is where my faith comes in.

For people who don't understand why I believe in a real and definite and specific God, I have to tell you that I don't understand your disbelief - or your ambivalence. And if you aren't in the mood to think about your position on the subject, just stop reading right now because I feel another rant coming on.

What does this mean?
I can understand how someone could want to not believe in God. I can understand how someone believes but has decided to rebel against God. What I cannot understand is how someone questions that there is God.

I've had people tell me that my faith is blind and ignorant and born out of fear and tradition. They are wrong. I would have to be willfully ignorant to believe that there is no God.

Some people like to say that they don't believe in what they can't experience with the 5 senses. I always want to remind them of the miracle that we are beings with those senses. Where did it come from that we exist as intricately made as we are?

And, by the way, I do experience God with my senses. If you can't understand how awesome I find the sight and sound of the natural world, then just stop and think about it for a moment. Just the fact that we have those senses - along with the ability to taste and touch and smell - that alone is pretty miraculous.

Dr. Hugh Ross - an astronomer and astrophysicist - explained in the simplest way what is so frightening to a lot of people (especially other scientists) to consider: "If there was a beginning, there is a Beginner."

Dr. Ross is obviously an intelligent man who has studied and theorized about things that I can't even pronounce. But all I need to do is open my eyes and look around to see "that the Heavens testify to the existence of a Creator". I can't even consider the beauty and complexity of life without considering God. There are resources for anyone wondering about the argument for God from different stances.

As advanced as man has become, he cannot create from nothing. He himself is a created being. All his greatness of mind comes from the DNA that he is. All that he discovers is from what already is. Man did not create himself or speak everything else into existence. God did.

When I think of where the first breath of man came from, I think of beginnings. When I think of time and dimensions - seen and unseen - I think of God. I cannot imagine the unfathomable intricacies of all that is woven together to create everything that is without considering God. How can you?

And, of course, there is suffering and grief and pain that we put up as arguments against there being a "just and good" God. What we don't think about is we're not just told: "There is God" period. We are actually given more information. An intelligent person will consider all the information. There's a guy named Lee Strobel who started out as an atheist but used his skills as an investigative journalist to consider the information. His goal was to disprove the existence of God. He came to believe. C.S. Lewis was reared as a Christian (that traditional thing), became an atheist, and came to believe - this time not blindly.

So, I don't need to have as much faith to believe in God as someone does to disbelieve. My faith is to help me understand and/or trust in God through my human condition. As I suffer depression and physical illness, I have to trust that God has not forsaken me.

Belief is easy; faith is hard but they go hand in hand.

Here is a quote (from an unlikely source for a Christian) that I thought about as I was writing this post:
“If you are depressed you are living in the past. 
If you are anxious you are living in the future. 
If you are at peace you are living in the present.” (Lao Tzu)
The Bible puts it this way:
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matthew 6:34)

Faith is about living in the present because you know what the endgame is about.

Peace
--Free

Thursday, May 16, 2019

The Opposite of Love?

For some reason, my sister has been on my mind more than usual these past few days. Ordinarily, I think of her most often on the anniversaries of her birth and passing. Sometimes, I get in a mood and will start looking at old photos, then memories of her flood my heart. But these past three or four days, she has been popping up in my mind. Her smile, her laugh, or the way she would suck her teeth right before she was going to say something funny.

While thinking of my sister, I always remember how loving she was. Along with my mother, she was the comfort of the family. Her children, her nieces and her nephews, her friends' kids - they all experienced the healing power of my sister's hugs. She gave the best hugs.

Something dawned on me while my sister was on my mind this week. It was about the meaning of family love and friendship love. I realized that there is no power in the word 'love' - people have tossed that word around so much that it's beginning to lose impact. The power of the word is in the person offering it up. Scripture tells us that "Death and life are in the power of the tongue". I knew that passage but I have only just now been thinking deeply about it.

When my sister gave you love, she did it with compassion and a pure heart. She patiently listened to your problems or waited out your anger or just soothed you through your fears. And she never seemed to want anything in return. She did get love reciprocated but that was never her goal. What I realized too late in her life was that sometimes we were all too busy depending on her to let her lean on us. I hope she did know how much we all loved her back. She taught us all so much about standing strong. She taught us all so much about everything. Because of her, I have finally realized something important about life and love. So she is still teaching me! It's as though I got to have a little Bible study with her again.

What I have come to fully understand is that love means nothing without truth and sacrifice. The opposite of love is pride. Love - true and real love - is giving, honest, open and willing. Love shines outward and pride radiates inward.

Peace
--Free

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Back to Church

I can't remember (and don't have the patience to check) whether or not I have ever posted here about why I left the Pentecostal church. Basically, it was all about that church being a legalistic man-based religion instead of being Bible-based and God-led. The church I grew up in worried more about a person's outer appearance than they did the inner heart. And they really loved to pick and choose which parts of Jesus' teachings to follow.

Anyway.

One thing I did always love about the church services of my youth was the music. There is no Broadway production that can beat a Sunday service at the right church. When the preacher finishes performing, then comes the choir with its musicians.

I have always had a hard time explaining to people what the music was like in the church I grew up in. Then I found this video. It took me back 45 years and sat me down in a pew in Big Spring, Texas just like I never left.


This is why some church services lasted well into the night. Just when you thought you were going to be dismissed and get to go home, someone on the keyboard or drums would get inspired to hit one more note and then someone else would start to get "happy" and we'd be back into another round of singing and shouting. I got used to being in church and banging a tambourine until as late as ten o'clock on a school night.

Say what you want about all the stuff that's just wrong about the "Holiness" church, you can't badmouth the musical talent.

My ex and his cousins were the musicians in our church and their talent was just astounding. My ex is the best musician I know. He grew up in church and around all that great music. Too bad that growing up around all the preaching didn't rub off on his behavior as a human being.




I want to mention that not all people associated with the church were bad. There were a lot of good, well-meaning and true-hearted Christians who attended. Just like in the rest of the world though, it's easier to focus on and criticize the worst of the bunch.

Peace
--Free

Friday, May 10, 2019

All That We Are

So, I was in one of my moods the other night after taking my injection. Since the most I can do on those days in lay down and try not to be nauseous and achy (think of the mild flu), I tend to do a lot of thinking. For some reason on this day, I went way deeper than I usually do when I don't feel well.

What I started out thinking was that we as humans don't often realize just how much more we are than flesh and blood. (And I have no idea how that sentence sounds because I'm foggy today so bear with me.) We tend to our flesh - with food and drink and sex and drugs and all the emotions we can muster up - but do we pay enough attention to the rest of what we are?

By the way, when I was looking for an image to post here, this perfectly suitable one popped up on Pinterest:



I personally think of my body as being only maybe ten percent of who and what I am. The body is what you see, but my mind and soul and thoughts and inner mystery is the most significant part. The body is just a vessel - convenient but overrated. The body is really the part of us that causes our sorrows - or most of them. It's the keeper of our health and our sins and our weapon of negative actions.

A quote that I always loved - though I misunderstood and wrongly attributed to C.S. Lewis - goes something like this:
You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.
While I get that the theology of the statement is a little crooked, I still like the core of what it means to me. I realize that I am a body imbued with a soul and, thankfully also the Spirit indwelling. What the quotation means to my train of thought though is that we don't think as much as we should about our souls. Our neglect of the soul is the root of so many troubles.

I think that when people say that they can "sense" something good or bad about a person, what they are feeling is the character of that person's soul. Often, when I meet someone, I will feel something really positive or really negative vibing between us. They can be a completely decent person who I just get a bad feeling about or a seemingly horrible person who I feel safe with. I've been wrong at times of course, but a lot of the time, I'm proved right. Also, I can meet someone and just know that I want them in my life. That's how I met my best friend.

The world - or rather, society and its norms - have trained us to be more aware of and to react more to people based on having (or lacking) so-called good looks, success, charisma, or the 'It' factor. I believe this is how we made bad choices in friends, relationships, and safety. There are murderers who have charm and looks. There are great-looking people who will ruin your life if they get a chance. Some psycho- and/or sociopathic people thrive because of the shallow nature of the rest of us.

People who look deeper and feel deeper and think deeper are so often thought of as 'strange' or odd. I had a hard time when I was younger because I just didn't care as much about the same things as most of my peers did. I was never the person who felt comfortable at parties or other common social situations. I would find myself trying to have a good time but getting distracted or lost in my thoughts about what was going on around me. Thank God I had wonderful parents. They let me know that it was okay not to fit in everywhere. They would tell me not to worry about have a lot of friends and just to try having good friends. Plus, I come from a large extended family so I had cousins and such. Being a military kid was a blessing and a curse since I was never going to be around the same crowd of kids for long.

Once again, because of brain fog, I've kind of forgotten where the hell I was traveling on this train of thought! Mainly though, I just wanted to talk about how we don't get to know other people - or even ourselves - as well as we should because we never look deep enough.

I will give up trying to pull my thoughts back together and just update this post if I can on another day. Of course, I'm pretty sure my brain will wake up all ready to cooperate just when I get good and sleep tonight...

Peace
--Free


Sunday, August 24, 2014

Sunday Refreshment (Midwest Style)

Lord knows, my spirit needed refreshing and I sure got it this morning. If those plane rides (which scared the crap out of me) and that layover that almost required my applying for residency at DFW - well, if all that didn't wear on me, my previous weeks of chaos has. I've been under so much stress the past few months that, since I landed here in this amazing place, I feel as if my body is in detox. Church this morning is just what I needed to feel replenished.

Before church...
 Let me go ahead and admit now that I haven't been to church in so long that it's a wonder I didn't knock on the front door. Luckily, I didn't have to; the folks at the church I attended seriously welcomed me with such open arms and hearts that I found myself tearing up during the praise and worship part of the service. (I tend to weep with joy whenever I am in church. Too bad I haven't shed enough of those tears lately!)
...After church
The folks here are just... I don't even know how to describe their kindness. It's not a phony-rote-cue-card kind of "Hi, how are'ya." This is sincere, look-you-in-the-eye consideration, compassion and concern. I almost didn't know how to take it all in. How sad is that?

They were. Seriously nice.
Anyway, I feel better than I did when I went to bed and woke up. I went to bed with the start of a cold and woke up with those germs playing golf with my bones. I told my brother that I remembered something our Mom used to say about that's like the Devil whispering for you to turn on over and go on back to sleep.

The drive home was nice. We drove slowly so that I could play the bumpkin outsider and take pictures of every other stalk of corn, barn and cute little house. Seriously. My finger is getting a callous from working the camera on my phone. (By the way, I will be posting some of the pics when I get them organized. Or get them off my brother's phone. Did you know that the Galaxy 4 camera really, really sucks snot? It does.)

Now that I am home and have done this post for the day, I am about to crawl into (or under) the bed and throw Robitussin at this nasty cold. It was pretty lame that the chick from Alaska was sitting in church wrapped up in a coat all morning... Just. So. Um... No words.

I'll be back to regular posting and reviews in the next few days. I have a couple of skin-care products on the way from Tomoson, and my sister-in-law and I have to pick up our free Silk Almond Coconut Blend to try. For this moment, though, I can't even type straight, so...

Peace
--Free

Friday, February 17, 2006

Handbasket Reservations

I'm going to hell, y'all.

I've been bad & I don't mean in that "naughty" way that guys like to hear described in detail over wine and soft music. I'm mean bad as in doing something my pastor would have a fit over if he knew about it. I'd be getting dunked in holy water and olive oil like that kid in "The Good Son" needed to be. Well, I would be if my pastor remembered me. I haven't been to church in so long, I'd need to Mapquest my way there.

See? Hell. I'm going to hell. And with my luck, the handbasket will probably be coach or steerage.

It's been a long while since I've been to church, but I was raised there. Matter of fact, when I was growing up, my mother had us in church so much we should have been paying rent. Bible Study, choir practice, YPWW, Sunshine Band, Tuesday Prayer Meeting, Thursday Night Worship... Don't even get me started on what Sundays were like. We were there at 9 o'clock (8 o'clock until Mama let me outgrow Sunday School), and the sign outside said "Morning Worship 9 - 10:30. That must have been there just to lure in unsuspecting newcomers. There was NEVER - not once in at least 4 years - a service that ended at 10:30 (not in the morning anyway). If we were lucky, we might actually stand to say the closing prayer at around, oh... 11:00...11:15... And every time we made it to the "Amen" and I felt my hopes rising - every. single. time. - Sister Somebody or Brother So-N-So would get a hit of the Holy Ghost. Usually it was this one lady - Sister Euletta Walton was her name. I'd be standing there, one eye shut for the prayer, the other one checking the nearest exit, and then I'd hear it: "Mmmmm..." Sister Walton would start humming. I'd go on and open my other eye and look over at my cousin. She'd sigh, shake her head, and we'd both sit back down. Might as well. Once somebody started humming, moaning, rocking, or swaying their hands in the air, it was on then.

The pastor's son (Sam), who played the organ, would get that glint in his eyes. Now, this boy was so ugly that he should have pitched a tent and charged admission, but he could rock that organ like Larry Dunn used to do for Earth, Wind & Fire.

The only reason Sam recovered from his Saturday night drunken comas and made it to church was so he could teach that organ new tricks. His favorite part of the service was at the almost closing. You know - when somebody (like Sister Walton) got that hum going? Sam told my other cousin that he knew just which note to hit at just the right time to get some shouting started. (He told Peaches this while I stood lookout so they could smoke cigarettes out behind the church.)

Sure enough, one sister or brother would start a hum going and another sister or brother would join in. Sam would pick the right moment to ease in a few random notes, then - when the timing was just right - he'd hit a high note. Just something kind of bluesy like to send a little thrill down the hairs on your neck.

At that point, you might as well forget going home. Evening services started at 6.

I stopped going to church when I stopped living at home. My mother never criticized my decision, but she'd drop "subtle" hints whenever she could. I would go by every couple of weeks to have dinner and she would make the grace into a ten-minute prayer for the salvation of my hell-bound soul. After she'd said "Amen," she would urge me to heap up on collard greens like she hadn't just scared me out of an appetite.

My mother passed away five years ago. I'd give just about anything for one of her dinnertime prayers now.

So, If you couldn't tell by now, I was raised among folk who other people called "Holy Rollers" and "Charismatics." In our church, it was easier to list things that weren't sins than to list what was.

Sins:
Secular music, dancing and singing, cussing, smoking, drinking, playing cards. Women had a few others: wearing pants, makeup, nail polish, skirts above the knees, elaborate hairstyles.

I think that whoever came up with the Sin List just copied another list called "Anything That Might Possibly Be Even Remotely Halfway Fun." The other things on the list came straight out of the Bible as read by the pastor. One of the big no-no's was astrology or horoscopes. This was not something you messed with if you didn't want the pastor to have to perform your excorcism.

Now, I've done my share of everthing on the "Sin List" (except for singing because, well... I can't), but until about a year ago, I never even paid attention to astrology. Until a friend of mine pointed out to me that I am "such a Cancer." She said, "You're so Cancer, the symbol should be a picture of you, not a crab."

Yeah. Right. Sure. Uh huh.

My friend brought over a copy of Linda Goodman's Sun Signs. She'd bookmarked the sections for Cancers.

I ignored it.

It was laying there on my coffee table for three weeks.

I dusted around it. Stacked mail on top. Hid late bills underneath.

My friend came by one day and put the book on my night table.

I hid it behind the lamp.

Then...

I think I had to take a peek - just so I could prove to myself that horoscopes are nothing but generic personality profiles. Then I could go back and tell my friend that she was wrong. But...Wow.

I am SO a Cancer. The generic profile thing just doesn't pardon how exactly that book describes my personality. Not only am I a true Cancer, but one friend of mine is a definite Virgo. This guy I dated a while back is Gemini to his soul, and I KNOW that my GWA is a Taurus...

Now, I wanted to toss the book out with the trash. Then I could find a church and convince a minister to bless and pray for me, but... I'm going to hang on for a minute. I need this book just for a little while longer. You know - for purposes of future reference when dating...

--Free

My words for the day:
"Thank God that forgiveness is not what we do, but what we are given." (Free 2/2006)

Music I'm listening to:
Rolling Stones - "Beast of Burden"
INXS - "Live, Baby, Live!"