Another physically exhausting weekend! Every commitment was an important one and, what I consider, needed. The "yes" given with a happy and grateful heart.
But, Monday still hurt. It was still a hard wake-up. I slept through my alarm and "scheduled" brown-chair time with God.
Sunday night I finished a study called "What Happens When Women Say Yes to God?" Let me pause there for a moment. I had put off finishing this loved study as if I wasn't ready somehow. Sunday night felt right. So... With the scalding water running and bubbles foaming, with the study and The Good Book tucked under my arm I stepped in.
For a moment I thought... Don't take your Bible in, it's going to end up in the water. I brushed it aside, it wasn't the first time I read in the tub and it won't be the last time. I did anyway... I settled in, laid the Bible on the rail and started the final chapter of my study. My dog quietly wandered in... And with a swoosh of his tail, as he exited to leave, my Bible plopped in.
For a second I got mad... Yelled at my dog as he bent back his ears and tucked his tail under.
"There is the anger I have been trying to keep in check." I thought to myself! "It's only a book." I tried to tell myself, except its not just a book.
{Introducing Secular Humanism... a random placement, not really...}
As I am empting the contents of the Bible; personal prayers written out and dated with expectation of fulfillment from above, notes from great speakers which carved at my heart so much that I needed to write it down and stick it in my Bible to call upon when needed. The gold wristband from still another conference which was all about the visual and not so visible marks and scars this world leaves on us. Each of these things I separate and leave on the floor to dry. Turning my attention to my Bible, I blow dry the pages, carefully, so as to not tear or bend.
As I do these things I think about a post I read about a week ago regarding This silly Book... these "stories" thousand's of years old, "stories" that have no place in society today. Some commenting that it breeds hatred, that there's no fact or history. This person commenting about my much loved book, doesn't know this Word like I know this Word or else he does know this Word and has rejected it for his own reason. He stated plainly, "thankful to be a secular humanist". At the time, I wanted to comment but my own schedule didn't allow to add and when I went back, I couldn't find the post so it wasn't meant for me. But it did leave an impression and a deep sadness.
But, Monday still hurt. It was still a hard wake-up. I slept through my alarm and "scheduled" brown-chair time with God.
Sunday night I finished a study called "What Happens When Women Say Yes to God?" Let me pause there for a moment. I had put off finishing this loved study as if I wasn't ready somehow. Sunday night felt right. So... With the scalding water running and bubbles foaming, with the study and The Good Book tucked under my arm I stepped in.
For a moment I thought... Don't take your Bible in, it's going to end up in the water. I brushed it aside, it wasn't the first time I read in the tub and it won't be the last time. I did anyway... I settled in, laid the Bible on the rail and started the final chapter of my study. My dog quietly wandered in... And with a swoosh of his tail, as he exited to leave, my Bible plopped in.
For a second I got mad... Yelled at my dog as he bent back his ears and tucked his tail under.
"There is the anger I have been trying to keep in check." I thought to myself! "It's only a book." I tried to tell myself, except its not just a book.
{Introducing Secular Humanism... a random placement, not really...}
As I am empting the contents of the Bible; personal prayers written out and dated with expectation of fulfillment from above, notes from great speakers which carved at my heart so much that I needed to write it down and stick it in my Bible to call upon when needed. The gold wristband from still another conference which was all about the visual and not so visible marks and scars this world leaves on us. Each of these things I separate and leave on the floor to dry. Turning my attention to my Bible, I blow dry the pages, carefully, so as to not tear or bend.
As I do these things I think about a post I read about a week ago regarding This silly Book... these "stories" thousand's of years old, "stories" that have no place in society today. Some commenting that it breeds hatred, that there's no fact or history. This person commenting about my much loved book, doesn't know this Word like I know this Word or else he does know this Word and has rejected it for his own reason. He stated plainly, "thankful to be a secular humanist". At the time, I wanted to comment but my own schedule didn't allow to add and when I went back, I couldn't find the post so it wasn't meant for me. But it did leave an impression and a deep sadness.
Secular Humanism: (Wikipedia) The philosophy or life stance of secular humanism embraces human reason, ethics, and philosophical naturalism while specifically rejecting religious dogma, supernaturalism, pseudoscience, and superstition as the basis of morality and decision making.
This theory says there is nothing greater than "self"; myself, yourself. Operating on the thoughts, ideas, ebb and flow of "popular" belief. Where does morality and right or wrong come from then? My sense of "what is right" is completely different than your sense of "what is right".
I am not going to debate, because thankfully this flawed belief system tells me I get to be right based on my reason, ethics and morals. I just happen to get my "morally right" from the Ten Commandments...
No, I am not going to debate. Instead I am going to tell you what this silly little, book, 2,000 years old means to me.
I have had three bibles in my life. One, the first, given to me as a young child by my dear grandparents. It was Easter 1980, I was one. That Bible, "presented to me" by "their names", a small but present reminder of the faith which founded our family (this country really). This Bible was only carried to church on Easter and Christmas service. It now sits, near pristine, on my shelf. It serves as a reminder of the family members who thought the Word was important enough to start me off even at one.
Train up a child I the way they will go and when they are old, they will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6
The second Bible was green leather embossed with my name, my maiden name. A gift from my parents the year I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior. I didn't know yet, what that acceptance meant. So taken for granted, that Bible has gone missing, packed in a box somewhere with other memoribila of my past.
My present Bible. This third Bible I have done most of my growing with. Given to me by my brother. It's underlined where words jump out at me, a pathway lit on fire.
It is dated at the passage that helped me through some rough patches. When my husband lost his job for the better part of 7 months, my son had his first (and only) surgery to-date. All over the holidays when money is tight anyway. My faith waivered and James brought me back
"Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray..." James 5:13
"And the prayer of the faith will save the sick and the Lord will raise him up..." James 5:15
Hannah, crying in tears - mourning an empty womb ushering promises to God if He would just fill it.
"...O Lord of hosts, if you would indeed look on the affliction of Your maidservant and remember me and not forget but give me a male child..." 1 Samuel 2:11
The evening I sat silently praying for my children and the following passage speaking to this mommy's heart.
But you must continue in the things which you have learned and been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them. and that from childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith which is Jesus Christ... 2 Timothy 3:14-15
I could go on and on, because every day there a moments with Him, within his word and in prayer that assure me His way is the correct way. I am going to tell you that my sense of right is right because it's mine...It's the way I have chosen to live, it's the way my husband and I agreed to live and raise children.
There is someone greater than myself. His name is Jesus and he loves me, wants to know me.
While thinking on this topic, in the process of writing, an aquaintance of mine posted the following to Facebook.
I am not going to debate, because thankfully this flawed belief system tells me I get to be right based on my reason, ethics and morals. I just happen to get my "morally right" from the Ten Commandments...
No, I am not going to debate. Instead I am going to tell you what this silly little, book, 2,000 years old means to me.
I have had three bibles in my life. One, the first, given to me as a young child by my dear grandparents. It was Easter 1980, I was one. That Bible, "presented to me" by "their names", a small but present reminder of the faith which founded our family (this country really). This Bible was only carried to church on Easter and Christmas service. It now sits, near pristine, on my shelf. It serves as a reminder of the family members who thought the Word was important enough to start me off even at one.
Train up a child I the way they will go and when they are old, they will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6
The second Bible was green leather embossed with my name, my maiden name. A gift from my parents the year I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior. I didn't know yet, what that acceptance meant. So taken for granted, that Bible has gone missing, packed in a box somewhere with other memoribila of my past.
My present Bible. This third Bible I have done most of my growing with. Given to me by my brother. It's underlined where words jump out at me, a pathway lit on fire.
It is dated at the passage that helped me through some rough patches. When my husband lost his job for the better part of 7 months, my son had his first (and only) surgery to-date. All over the holidays when money is tight anyway. My faith waivered and James brought me back
"Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray..." James 5:13
"And the prayer of the faith will save the sick and the Lord will raise him up..." James 5:15
Hannah, crying in tears - mourning an empty womb ushering promises to God if He would just fill it.
"...O Lord of hosts, if you would indeed look on the affliction of Your maidservant and remember me and not forget but give me a male child..." 1 Samuel 2:11
The evening I sat silently praying for my children and the following passage speaking to this mommy's heart.
But you must continue in the things which you have learned and been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them. and that from childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith which is Jesus Christ... 2 Timothy 3:14-15
I could go on and on, because every day there a moments with Him, within his word and in prayer that assure me His way is the correct way. I am going to tell you that my sense of right is right because it's mine...It's the way I have chosen to live, it's the way my husband and I agreed to live and raise children.
There is someone greater than myself. His name is Jesus and he loves me, wants to know me.
While thinking on this topic, in the process of writing, an aquaintance of mine posted the following to Facebook.
I thought long and hard about that. This process which I have committed to just by saying Yes to Christ and No to myself is an evolution, a change.
As I grow with in the word, reading and spending time with Him. As I pray and sit at His feet in quiet conversation. As I fellowship with other believers who help me with my daily struggles... (Because I still struggle and this world is not perfect) and finally as I go and tell others about my life I am being pruned, I am being refined and I am being made better in His sight.
I don't care what the world says, as long as I keep my head up, focused on the only one who died and lived again for me.
As I grow with in the word, reading and spending time with Him. As I pray and sit at His feet in quiet conversation. As I fellowship with other believers who help me with my daily struggles... (Because I still struggle and this world is not perfect) and finally as I go and tell others about my life I am being pruned, I am being refined and I am being made better in His sight.
I don't care what the world says, as long as I keep my head up, focused on the only one who died and lived again for me.
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