MAYBE I MADE IT ALL UP
My sister, Elaine sent me a Facebook birthday greeting. She reminded me of a couple of things we used to do together.
Marble races.
We would set up a ramp, line up two marbles at a time, and race them. Single elimination tournament. All the marbles til we got down to the final two. We would cheer for the winner of each heat as if they were human.
There would be one winner.
The world champion.
Magnattel dollhouse.
A one story dollhouse on legs with no roof. A mom, a dad, a girl, a boy, a dog, a cat, and a mouse all had magnets attached to their bottom side, or feet. There were wands that we would use to move the inhabitants through the house. They could open doors, move furniture, leave so the animals could have free run of the house.
We were the gods of this family. We planned their lives, arranged their circumstances, even gave them their words.
They were totally dependent on us.
There are four kids in our family ( well, we used to be kids) and my sister and I were the middles.
We had great imaginations and we spent countless hours together in her room, away from the other two, making up worlds and situations. We had cowboy and Indian figures that would have all sorts of terrifying circumstances to overcome.
All at our whim.
We controlled everything, every outcome.
Except that time when a bad guy captured my favorite cowboy, the one with the legs bowed so that he could ride his horse. I called him "Jim." (Good cowboy name, don't you think?) Anyway, the bad guy was trying to extract information from Jim and put him in his torture device, a gooseneck desk lamp. As the bad guy laughed maniacally, Jim's right leg melted off.
Nooooooo! He never rode a horse again.
There have been times in my life when I wondered if my imagination was the only reason I believed so strongly in God.
Except, I was never able to plan His moves, His words, His life.
I was the one under His power. He orchestrated my circumstances, the lessons I had to learn, the trials I had to endure, the joys I got to experience.
Maybe he gives us imagination so that we can begin to anticipate the unseen invisible world around us, and to receive visions and dreams to propel us forward into a LIFE of His planning.
Thanks, Elaine, for sharing that most important part of being prepared for what is yet to be.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Hanging on
WHAT DO I HAVE TO GIVE UP?
Rich young ruler.
One time, a man who was highly favored in the community came to Jesus to learn about this "eternal life."
"What must I do?" he asked.
Jesus pointed out some commandments that he knew the guy had kept.
The young man was already feeling pretty good about himself. People had probably told him that he ought to go see Jesus, that he would really be someone that Jesus could use. That he was such a good guy.
With Jesus' first list, he checked them off, one by one. He thought, "I've got this. I have earned this."
Jesus looked at Him with a deep, deep love.
Jesus saw the one thing in his life that would always interfere with his devotion to the One who carried the LIFE.
The one thing that would constantly interrupt the communication that would come to him if he were following the One.
The one part of his life that would always pull him away.
Away from that meaningful conversation.
Away from that time of understanding.
Away from that trust in the only way to Life, the only way to Joy.
That one need that he had that could override any "command" from the Giver of LIFE.
"If you love me, you will obey me."
He couldn't give up this one thing, because it was his everything.
It was who he was.
It was the one thing that he didn't think he could live without.
He was important.
Who would he be without it?
Nobody.
He couldn't give it up.
The trust was not there.
What about you?
What are you hanging onto that you just can't live without?
The one thing that keeps pulling you away from the One that will fill you with Joy, with Life that has no bounds.
The one thing that you just can't believe that you can live without?
Rich young ruler.
One time, a man who was highly favored in the community came to Jesus to learn about this "eternal life."
"What must I do?" he asked.
Jesus pointed out some commandments that he knew the guy had kept.
The young man was already feeling pretty good about himself. People had probably told him that he ought to go see Jesus, that he would really be someone that Jesus could use. That he was such a good guy.
With Jesus' first list, he checked them off, one by one. He thought, "I've got this. I have earned this."
Jesus looked at Him with a deep, deep love.
Jesus saw the one thing in his life that would always interfere with his devotion to the One who carried the LIFE.
The one thing that would constantly interrupt the communication that would come to him if he were following the One.
The one part of his life that would always pull him away.
Away from that meaningful conversation.
Away from that time of understanding.
Away from that trust in the only way to Life, the only way to Joy.
That one need that he had that could override any "command" from the Giver of LIFE.
"If you love me, you will obey me."
He couldn't give up this one thing, because it was his everything.
It was who he was.
It was the one thing that he didn't think he could live without.
He was important.
Who would he be without it?
Nobody.
He couldn't give it up.
The trust was not there.
What about you?
What are you hanging onto that you just can't live without?
The one thing that keeps pulling you away from the One that will fill you with Joy, with Life that has no bounds.
The one thing that you just can't believe that you can live without?
TIME OR ETERNITY (Part 2)
TIME OR ETERNITY (Part 2)
God had opened the envelope every time He had given a prophet a glimpse of what was coming. Think about it. How could anyone accurately predict a future event, unless God, who exists in eternity, outside of time, revealed it to him?
He stepped out of eternity into time to give an old priest and his childless wife hope.
A child to an old couple. He was to be the one the prophets predicted, a messenger in the wilderness, one who announced the arrival of the coming savior.
His name was John.
A cousin of Jesus.
He would reveal that light that had been since the beginning, the One who carried the eternal life. The One who was in the world already, who had been born six months after John, miraculously in Bethlehem, as the prophets had predicted, even though his parents were from Nazareth, a town about 100 miles away.
John was out in the country, preaching to large crowds, telling them to turn their lives back to their God, to turn away from their wicked ways.
He told them that the eternal kingdom was about to be revealed.
How did he know?
The envelope had been opened.
John 1: 6-9
There was a man sent from God whose name was John.
He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe.
He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.
The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.
God had opened the envelope every time He had given a prophet a glimpse of what was coming. Think about it. How could anyone accurately predict a future event, unless God, who exists in eternity, outside of time, revealed it to him?
He stepped out of eternity into time to give an old priest and his childless wife hope.
A child to an old couple. He was to be the one the prophets predicted, a messenger in the wilderness, one who announced the arrival of the coming savior.
His name was John.
A cousin of Jesus.
He would reveal that light that had been since the beginning, the One who carried the eternal life. The One who was in the world already, who had been born six months after John, miraculously in Bethlehem, as the prophets had predicted, even though his parents were from Nazareth, a town about 100 miles away.
John was out in the country, preaching to large crowds, telling them to turn their lives back to their God, to turn away from their wicked ways.
He told them that the eternal kingdom was about to be revealed.
How did he know?
The envelope had been opened.
John 1: 6-9
There was a man sent from God whose name was John.
He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe.
He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.
The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.
Friday, November 4, 2016
TIME OR ETERNITY
TIME OR ETERNITY (Part 1)
WARNING: IF YOU ARE NOT A BELIEVER IN THE GOD OF THE BIBLE, DON'T READ THIS! IT WILL EITHER ANGER YOU ( and isn't there enough already to make you angry?), CONFUSE YOU, OR SEEM RIDICULOUS TO YOU.
My friend, Joni Sunderland, was sharing with me last week some insights on the "water into wine" episode in the book of John. (More on that, later.)
My thoughts returned to the days, before I was changed, when I was working my way through that very book. I think I will begin that journey again.
Slowly.
What Joni had shared, was that this time thing, time, that we base everything on was also part of the creation.
We, as beings of flesh and blood, are bound by time, controlled by time, limited by time, at the mercy of time.
Waiting for a meal.
Trying to pay off a loan.
Making a living.
Waiting for Christmas.
Elections.
Traveling.
Vacations....
Everything has a reference point. Time.
It doesn't stop. No matter how much you want it to, it just will not stop.
"I need more time!"
Sorry.
So, we are trapped in this progression of seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries....
Things wear out. Time.
We get older, we get old. We wear out. Time.
But, in the beginning, before time,
with God, was the Word,
the Maker of all things,
the carrier of life,
eternal life,
the life that would become the light for all mankind,
a light that would shine in a darkness,
one that would not be overpowered by the darkness.
He was not limited by time, because He was outside of time.
We couldn't see him, because we were enclosed in that envelope he had created.
Time.
The only way we could see Him,
He had to open the envelope.
John 1: 1-5
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning.
Through Him, all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made.
In Him was Life, and that Life was the light of all mankind.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
WARNING: IF YOU ARE NOT A BELIEVER IN THE GOD OF THE BIBLE, DON'T READ THIS! IT WILL EITHER ANGER YOU ( and isn't there enough already to make you angry?), CONFUSE YOU, OR SEEM RIDICULOUS TO YOU.
My friend, Joni Sunderland, was sharing with me last week some insights on the "water into wine" episode in the book of John. (More on that, later.)
My thoughts returned to the days, before I was changed, when I was working my way through that very book. I think I will begin that journey again.
Slowly.
What Joni had shared, was that this time thing, time, that we base everything on was also part of the creation.
We, as beings of flesh and blood, are bound by time, controlled by time, limited by time, at the mercy of time.
Waiting for a meal.
Trying to pay off a loan.
Making a living.
Waiting for Christmas.
Elections.
Traveling.
Vacations....
Everything has a reference point. Time.
It doesn't stop. No matter how much you want it to, it just will not stop.
"I need more time!"
Sorry.
So, we are trapped in this progression of seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries....
Things wear out. Time.
We get older, we get old. We wear out. Time.
But, in the beginning, before time,
with God, was the Word,
the Maker of all things,
the carrier of life,
eternal life,
the life that would become the light for all mankind,
a light that would shine in a darkness,
one that would not be overpowered by the darkness.
He was not limited by time, because He was outside of time.
We couldn't see him, because we were enclosed in that envelope he had created.
Time.
The only way we could see Him,
He had to open the envelope.
John 1: 1-5
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning.
Through Him, all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made.
In Him was Life, and that Life was the light of all mankind.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Lessons from the Jury Room
LESSONS LEARNED IN THE JURY ROOM
After four long days of jury duty, starting on Monday morning, and ending on Thursday night at 8:00 pm, here are a few of the lessons I learned.
Realize, that October is my busy time of year, and, while I don't mind serving on jury duty as a rule, October is not the best time for me.
1. God may disrupt your schedule. Your inconvenience is not as important as His plan.
2. There are twelve jurors for a reason. Every one has a different life story, a different idea as to what is just, and feels pretty strongly about what he considers right and wrong.
3. Complaining about your circumstances in life does not make things better. When the court was going through the final numbering phase, putting the potential jurors in order of possible choice, my prayer had been "Please let me have a high number."
When they assigned the number 2 slot to this really big guy, I knew, that I would be next.
"Number 3. Randall Epps."
I think you could hear my disappointed sigh.
4. Accepting God's plan will bring a measure of peace.
"Okay, God, if this is what you want for me, I know you have a reason. Your will, not mine. But, please, don't make me foreman."
5.First day in jury room. Very little conversation. Most on phones, reading, or calling bosses, or family to let them know that they had been chosen. I was calling all my customers to reschedule the week's work. Judge said trial will probably be through by Wednesday morning. I could do quite a bit of work on Wed afternoon and all day Thursday. We had to go to Dallas on Friday for a wedding. Plenty of time to salvage part of my work week.
6. Don't believe the judge's timeline.
7. Day 2, the trial starts, and immediately your preconceived perceptions of who is probably right begins to change.
JURY room conversations MAY NOT INCLUDE TOTAL TALK.
So chit chat begins.
No bonding.
Shared imprisonment.
Talk of work, some family talk.
8. Day 3, you start to realize, this could take a while. You also start to think about things that are not said as well as things that are.
Jury room conversations begin to be a little more personal.
Tattooed guy with spiked hair has a young son who is in remission from a deadly form of cancer. He took time over summer, without a job to spend the time with his son.
Youngest guy on jury works for Target warehouse, lives in a small apartment, struggles with having enough to pay bills. Likes to party on Friday nights.
Mike loved to talk about the Cowboys. Knew to avoid politics.
Older man lives on Lake Winnsboro, and has killed dozens of copperheads on his property.
Shows pictures.
Young woman whose boss is kinda upset that she is off, says her 7 year old already "knows everything" and that her husband always thinks he is right about everything, and "unfortunately for me, he usually is."
9. Day 4. Are you kidding me? We have to finish today. I have to go to Dallas tomorrow. Cancelled Thursday jobs. Starting to lose the peace.
Jury room.
Everybody is emotionally drained, upset over trial, didn't sleep well.
Someone decides we need to know each other's names.
Johnny, Sean, Galen, Mike, Randy, Michelle, Rebecca, Taylor, Juanita, April, Linda, Shirley, and Vicki. Anyway, there were 13. Someone, we don't know who, is an alternate. Hears the whole trial, doesn't get to deliberate.
Judge reads charge to jury, closing arguments by lawyers, juror instructions, including choosing the foreman .
Judge says to Taylor, "Ms._______, you will need to remain here."
I whisper to her, "It's been nice knowing you."
"Don't say that!" she responded, a bit of fear in her eyes.(She hadn't yet realized that she was the alternate.)
We retired to the jury room to choose a foreman, and begin deliberations.
10. God doesn't always answer your prayers the way you want .
Sean, the young guy, said, "I am willing to be foreman, if no one else volunteers."
I kept quiet.
A couple of people said they definitely did not want to do it. One of the ladies asked me, "What about you, Randy? Would you do it?"
(Silent scream!)
"I wasn't going to volunteer, but if y'all vote me in, I am willing to serve." (Seriously, Lord? You think I need to do this, too?)
Unanimous. I am it.
11. There is a strength that comes from above. There is an ability that God provides when he chooses a job for you.
Five and a half hours of deliberations.
We were able to merge our opinions, beliefs and come to a conclusion.
12. Forced closeness can build friendships.
When it was all over, we had turned in our judgment to the court and were waiting to be called back into the courtroom, I was able to share my Jesus with the other jurors, in a personal, natural conversation about my daughter's life, and the circumstances behind our raising my granddaughter.
I really felt like we had become friends, even though we didn't know each other's last name.
Close friends.
Thanks, Lord.
You knew all along.
After four long days of jury duty, starting on Monday morning, and ending on Thursday night at 8:00 pm, here are a few of the lessons I learned.
Realize, that October is my busy time of year, and, while I don't mind serving on jury duty as a rule, October is not the best time for me.
1. God may disrupt your schedule. Your inconvenience is not as important as His plan.
2. There are twelve jurors for a reason. Every one has a different life story, a different idea as to what is just, and feels pretty strongly about what he considers right and wrong.
3. Complaining about your circumstances in life does not make things better. When the court was going through the final numbering phase, putting the potential jurors in order of possible choice, my prayer had been "Please let me have a high number."
When they assigned the number 2 slot to this really big guy, I knew, that I would be next.
"Number 3. Randall Epps."
I think you could hear my disappointed sigh.
4. Accepting God's plan will bring a measure of peace.
"Okay, God, if this is what you want for me, I know you have a reason. Your will, not mine. But, please, don't make me foreman."
5.First day in jury room. Very little conversation. Most on phones, reading, or calling bosses, or family to let them know that they had been chosen. I was calling all my customers to reschedule the week's work. Judge said trial will probably be through by Wednesday morning. I could do quite a bit of work on Wed afternoon and all day Thursday. We had to go to Dallas on Friday for a wedding. Plenty of time to salvage part of my work week.
6. Don't believe the judge's timeline.
7. Day 2, the trial starts, and immediately your preconceived perceptions of who is probably right begins to change.
JURY room conversations MAY NOT INCLUDE TOTAL TALK.
So chit chat begins.
No bonding.
Shared imprisonment.
Talk of work, some family talk.
8. Day 3, you start to realize, this could take a while. You also start to think about things that are not said as well as things that are.
Jury room conversations begin to be a little more personal.
Tattooed guy with spiked hair has a young son who is in remission from a deadly form of cancer. He took time over summer, without a job to spend the time with his son.
Youngest guy on jury works for Target warehouse, lives in a small apartment, struggles with having enough to pay bills. Likes to party on Friday nights.
Mike loved to talk about the Cowboys. Knew to avoid politics.
Older man lives on Lake Winnsboro, and has killed dozens of copperheads on his property.
Shows pictures.
Young woman whose boss is kinda upset that she is off, says her 7 year old already "knows everything" and that her husband always thinks he is right about everything, and "unfortunately for me, he usually is."
9. Day 4. Are you kidding me? We have to finish today. I have to go to Dallas tomorrow. Cancelled Thursday jobs. Starting to lose the peace.
Jury room.
Everybody is emotionally drained, upset over trial, didn't sleep well.
Someone decides we need to know each other's names.
Johnny, Sean, Galen, Mike, Randy, Michelle, Rebecca, Taylor, Juanita, April, Linda, Shirley, and Vicki. Anyway, there were 13. Someone, we don't know who, is an alternate. Hears the whole trial, doesn't get to deliberate.
Judge reads charge to jury, closing arguments by lawyers, juror instructions, including choosing the foreman .
Judge says to Taylor, "Ms._______, you will need to remain here."
I whisper to her, "It's been nice knowing you."
"Don't say that!" she responded, a bit of fear in her eyes.(She hadn't yet realized that she was the alternate.)
We retired to the jury room to choose a foreman, and begin deliberations.
10. God doesn't always answer your prayers the way you want .
Sean, the young guy, said, "I am willing to be foreman, if no one else volunteers."
I kept quiet.
A couple of people said they definitely did not want to do it. One of the ladies asked me, "What about you, Randy? Would you do it?"
(Silent scream!)
"I wasn't going to volunteer, but if y'all vote me in, I am willing to serve." (Seriously, Lord? You think I need to do this, too?)
Unanimous. I am it.
11. There is a strength that comes from above. There is an ability that God provides when he chooses a job for you.
Five and a half hours of deliberations.
We were able to merge our opinions, beliefs and come to a conclusion.
12. Forced closeness can build friendships.
When it was all over, we had turned in our judgment to the court and were waiting to be called back into the courtroom, I was able to share my Jesus with the other jurors, in a personal, natural conversation about my daughter's life, and the circumstances behind our raising my granddaughter.
I really felt like we had become friends, even though we didn't know each other's last name.
Close friends.
Thanks, Lord.
You knew all along.
Sunday, October 9, 2016
Phyllis Clopton's School of Dance
PHYLLIS CLOPTON'S SCHOOL OF DANCE
Do you have any of those times in your past that your mom decided you just had to do something?
"One day, you will really be glad for this."
You know what I'm talking about. We all have those lessons. Moms.
Ballroom dance lessons.
Why in the world does a sixth grade boy have to take ballroom dance lessons?
"One day you will be glad you did this."
Fall of 1963, Monday nights for six weeks. The Garland,Tx community center old annex building.
Phyllis Clopton's ballroom dance class.
Oh, man. Could I be any more uncomfortable?
I had to wear a coat and tie to the stupid class.
Phyllis knew enough about the age to make her own pairs.
My partner was not too bad looking.
Phyllis demonstrated a style, explained that at the end of the course we would have a real dance, where we would invite a dance partner to come and witness our amazing new grace on the dance floor.
Anita.
Since first grade, the apple of my eye.
Around the fourth grade, she had gone to the country school outside of Garland, Rose Hill School, and I no longer could watch her dreamily across the room.
In the summer after fifth grade, Rose Hill burned down. Garland had built a new elementary school, Southgate Elementary, and had ripped some of us Caldwell students and all the Rose Hill students away and put them together in Southgate.
And there, sitting across the room of my sixth grade class was Anita.
I had gotten a five year diary for Christmas in the fifth grade, and most entries were, "Not much happened today."
But one entry stood out.
"Anita looked at me today."
So, I figured, after I master this ballroom dance thing, me and Anita were going to finally be together. Forever.
So for six weeks I endured. I actually kinda liked it.
My dance partner was quiet. Soft. Calm. Shy.
No unnecessary uncomfortable conversation.
Just a shared enduring of the task at hand.
Box step. Foxtrot. Waltz. (No samba, rhumba, cha-cha, tango, paso doble. Just the simple stuff. Sixth graders, remember?)
I remember my partner's smile. A quiet, nice smile, teeth not perfectly straight, but pleasant.
I don't remember her name.
Phyllis walked around the dance floor, correcting postures, fixing holds.
"Don't rock, don't sway. Smooth movements. To the music."
Six weeks. Next week was the big day.
Days of rapid nervous heartbeat. Sweaty palms. Trying to summon the courage.
Do it.
In those days, most houses had one phone; in a special cubby, built especially for the telephone in the hallway.
For privacy, you stretched the phone into the bathroom, shut the door and hoped that no one could hear this conversation.
"Hello. Is Anita there?"
"Uh, Anita, this is Randy Epps. Would you go to this dance with me next Monday night? Oh, okay, no that's okay, no, I understand. Goodbye."
I wonder how much this crippled my future relationships, this first rejection.
The next Monday came, my dance partner came alone, we paired up, shared refreshments, and had a really nice time.
Years later, Wendy and I were married, had just moved back to Garland, and, like most young couples, we were really struggling to get our bills paid.
One day, the phone rang.
"Randy Epps?"
"Yes, this is he." (Grammar)
"This is J.C. Penny's collection department. You are behind on your credit card payments. We need to get a payment."
"Oh, yeah. I will mail it this week."
"Okay, thank you. We will be watching for it........Did you go to Southgate Elementary School?....This is Anita_______......Do you remember me?"
Soon after this, we got rid of all our credit cards.
By the way, that dance thing, never really took hold.
Thanks, Phyllis, at least you tried.
Do you have any of those times in your past that your mom decided you just had to do something?
"One day, you will really be glad for this."
You know what I'm talking about. We all have those lessons. Moms.
Ballroom dance lessons.
Why in the world does a sixth grade boy have to take ballroom dance lessons?
"One day you will be glad you did this."
Fall of 1963, Monday nights for six weeks. The Garland,Tx community center old annex building.
Phyllis Clopton's ballroom dance class.
Oh, man. Could I be any more uncomfortable?
I had to wear a coat and tie to the stupid class.
Phyllis knew enough about the age to make her own pairs.
My partner was not too bad looking.
Phyllis demonstrated a style, explained that at the end of the course we would have a real dance, where we would invite a dance partner to come and witness our amazing new grace on the dance floor.
Anita.
Since first grade, the apple of my eye.
Around the fourth grade, she had gone to the country school outside of Garland, Rose Hill School, and I no longer could watch her dreamily across the room.
In the summer after fifth grade, Rose Hill burned down. Garland had built a new elementary school, Southgate Elementary, and had ripped some of us Caldwell students and all the Rose Hill students away and put them together in Southgate.
And there, sitting across the room of my sixth grade class was Anita.
I had gotten a five year diary for Christmas in the fifth grade, and most entries were, "Not much happened today."
But one entry stood out.
"Anita looked at me today."
So, I figured, after I master this ballroom dance thing, me and Anita were going to finally be together. Forever.
So for six weeks I endured. I actually kinda liked it.
My dance partner was quiet. Soft. Calm. Shy.
No unnecessary uncomfortable conversation.
Just a shared enduring of the task at hand.
Box step. Foxtrot. Waltz. (No samba, rhumba, cha-cha, tango, paso doble. Just the simple stuff. Sixth graders, remember?)
I remember my partner's smile. A quiet, nice smile, teeth not perfectly straight, but pleasant.
I don't remember her name.
Phyllis walked around the dance floor, correcting postures, fixing holds.
"Don't rock, don't sway. Smooth movements. To the music."
Six weeks. Next week was the big day.
Days of rapid nervous heartbeat. Sweaty palms. Trying to summon the courage.
Do it.
In those days, most houses had one phone; in a special cubby, built especially for the telephone in the hallway.
For privacy, you stretched the phone into the bathroom, shut the door and hoped that no one could hear this conversation.
"Hello. Is Anita there?"
"Uh, Anita, this is Randy Epps. Would you go to this dance with me next Monday night? Oh, okay, no that's okay, no, I understand. Goodbye."
I wonder how much this crippled my future relationships, this first rejection.
The next Monday came, my dance partner came alone, we paired up, shared refreshments, and had a really nice time.
Years later, Wendy and I were married, had just moved back to Garland, and, like most young couples, we were really struggling to get our bills paid.
One day, the phone rang.
"Randy Epps?"
"Yes, this is he." (Grammar)
"This is J.C. Penny's collection department. You are behind on your credit card payments. We need to get a payment."
"Oh, yeah. I will mail it this week."
"Okay, thank you. We will be watching for it........Did you go to Southgate Elementary School?....This is Anita_______......Do you remember me?"
Soon after this, we got rid of all our credit cards.
By the way, that dance thing, never really took hold.
Thanks, Phyllis, at least you tried.
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
BLESSINGS
BLESSINGS
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
This morning in our men's Bible study, we were discussing Solomon's apparent frustration level as he neared the end of his life. (Ecclesiastes 2). One man remarked that it was kinda weird that he would feel this way after being so obviously blessed by God in every area of his life; riches, possessions, territory, inventions, women, fame.
I wonder of those really were blessings.
It's easy to think that way, especially growing up in the United States, where success has become the accepted measure of a man or woman.
Funny thing, though, Solomon had everything you or I might desire to obtain, and he found it to feel kind of empty. He would die, and he would be forgotten. What was the point?
Maybe, the real "blessings" that God sends our way are not the good happy times that we have previously thought.
Maybe, those moments of deep pain and loss, the times when we come to the end of our means, the end of our strength, the end of our human understanding, maybe those are the blessings that God sends.
I have found in the later years of my life, that, feeling God's pleasure is a greater satisfaction than any human accomplishment I have ever had.
And when did I feel His pleasure?
Those times when I could no longer see a possible way out, or through, without putting ALL of the burden on Him.
The times when I saw no possible way to pay the huge bill.
No possible way to fix the trauma in personal relationships.
The time on the side of the highway, standing outside of our wrecked car, knowing my only child had just this moment preceded me to eternity, her young daughter turning blue from internal injuries.
The moment when everything you had planned is changed forever.
When you change your plans
For his plans.
When you KNOW...
HE IS HERE!
That would be the blessing....
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
This morning in our men's Bible study, we were discussing Solomon's apparent frustration level as he neared the end of his life. (Ecclesiastes 2). One man remarked that it was kinda weird that he would feel this way after being so obviously blessed by God in every area of his life; riches, possessions, territory, inventions, women, fame.
I wonder of those really were blessings.
It's easy to think that way, especially growing up in the United States, where success has become the accepted measure of a man or woman.
Funny thing, though, Solomon had everything you or I might desire to obtain, and he found it to feel kind of empty. He would die, and he would be forgotten. What was the point?
Maybe, the real "blessings" that God sends our way are not the good happy times that we have previously thought.
Maybe, those moments of deep pain and loss, the times when we come to the end of our means, the end of our strength, the end of our human understanding, maybe those are the blessings that God sends.
I have found in the later years of my life, that, feeling God's pleasure is a greater satisfaction than any human accomplishment I have ever had.
And when did I feel His pleasure?
Those times when I could no longer see a possible way out, or through, without putting ALL of the burden on Him.
The times when I saw no possible way to pay the huge bill.
No possible way to fix the trauma in personal relationships.
The time on the side of the highway, standing outside of our wrecked car, knowing my only child had just this moment preceded me to eternity, her young daughter turning blue from internal injuries.
The moment when everything you had planned is changed forever.
When you change your plans
For his plans.
When you KNOW...
HE IS HERE!
That would be the blessing....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)