Real Rhonda

I’ve been thinking about an illustration for at least a year now and suppose now is as good a time as any to try to put it on paper.

Picture each of us as a house.  Some of us are big, in our ideas, our imaginations, our grace for others, our ability to tolerate certain things, to enjoy certain things.  Some of us are not as big, in our thinking, in how far we want to go in life, in what is allowable, in what we desire, in how we encourage others.

Neither one is bad or good.  Some people’s lives are very specific and only want to go so far or can only imagine so far.  No judgement, it’s just how we are. Perhaps it’s how we were raised to think or how we view the world and our place in it.

So you are a house.  Maybe you are a cute blue house with a white picket fence, good for daily living but won’t be hosting a wedding anytime soon. Maybe you are big estate, with a fountain in the driveway, large trees with deep roots in the backyard, plantation style.  Maybe you have tall ceilings, maybe medium size, or short.  Maybe you are a Hobbit style house or maybe you are Buckingham palace.  Maybe you are a small grass hut or maybe you are a house boat.  Maybe you are a lighthouse or a 2 bedroom apartment in Dallas, Texas. Maybe you are a farm-house with a barn.  Maybe you have lots of walls on the inside with lots of rooms and nooks and crannies.  Maybe you only have one room, big and spacious.  Maybe you have a basement filled with spider webs and skeletons.  Maybe you are a clean house but have a few junk drawers in the kitchen.  Maybe you are broken down, maybe you are recently remodeled.

Again, we are all different and necessary to our environment.  We bloom where we are planted but won’t all look the same.  Nor should we ever look the same.  WE aren’t the same. We don’t have the same purpose. We aren’t robots.  We are human beings with different callings, visions, revelations, imaginations, skills, talents, educations, schooling.  Some of us were schooled on the street, some in boarding schools, some at Princeton, some at a Catholic school, some in the backyard.  Again, we are unique and it’s good.  We are all vital and important.

So, here you are.  A house.

And one day you go looking for a spouse, a companion, a partner.  We were made for companionship and it’s time for you to have a companion (You could also insert, instead of “companion” in this illustration, insert “vision” or “calling” or “destiny”).

And what or who you are looking for is in “tree” format.  You are a house.  You are going out to bring home a tree to be in your living room, right in front of the window.  Let’s pretend it’s Christmas time except the tree you will get will be up all year-long for a long time.

When looking for a tree however, you realize, you only have 3 foot ceilings (or maybe 8 foot, or 10 foot, or 50 foot).  If you bring home a 50 foot tree to your Hobbit house, you are going to be in trouble.  That tree will destroy you and you will have to get rid of it because it will also die.

No, if you have 3 foot ceilings, you need to get a tree that is less than 3 feet.  And if it continues to grow, you will just have to slowly remodel, which are more than willing to do but not all at once.

If you have 50 foot ceilings in a big spacious living room, then it would be silly looking to bring home a 1 foot tree.  It just wouldn’t fit.  You could do it but…it would be awkward.

So you go out.  Looking.  Through the forest, through the nursery, through the gardens.  Line after line, lane after lane.  What tree to pick?  You see trees that are too big for you.  You see them, want them, admire their beauty but…hmmm.  Not right.  That 50 foot tree would actually look good if I could chop off the top part.  You know, just 12 feet off the top.  That’s the best part anyways.  Perfect tree if it was only 12 feet.

You get your chainsaw out and cut off the top 12 feet of this glorious 50 foot tree.  You take it home, forgetting that the best part of the tree with its life in the roots is still out in the forest where you man-handled/woman-handled it.

You stick that “12 foot” tree in some dirt and water and put it in the front window.  It does well for a while.  But you chopped off it’s roots, you didn’t want the roots, you wanted the beautiful top to fit in your house.

Sure, the tree consented.  Sure, the tree was short-sighted, excited about going home with someone, anyone and allowed you to reduce her/him.  The tree though didn’t know what it was sacrificing.  You were selfish.  She/He was stupid and relented.

And sadly, you both ended up unhappy.

Or Maybe! Maybe you realized your 12 foot beauty wasn’t made to stay at 12 feet.  Your 12 foot beauty that you brought home actually had potential and a calling to be 100 feet.

What have I done??  I have ruined everything!  I thought I could handle something I wasn’t ready for.  Instead of throwing her out, you remodel.  You bust open the roof, you knock down the walls.  Baby, if you wanna be 100 feet, you can be 100 feet.  I’ll do what it takes.  Forget that I have had that wall for years/decades.

You run to the forest with your shovel only to find that her roots are deep.  You go get a back hoe, a tractor, and some more John Deere equipment.  You work night and day, week after week.  Trying to keep the 12 footer in your home alive while you work to bring home the rest of her.  Through the rain, the snow, the sleet you work.  And finally, finally you have her, all of her.  You bring her home, down the free way, “wide load” sign hanging off her roots.  Your house is still beautiful but different, open, and in some ways, decimated.  You attach the 12 feet with the 38 feet and then the 50 feet of roots down into the foundation of your house.  You continue to work to make her flourish.  And she does, thriving and blooming.

There’s an old tradition in the church that I always loved as a kid. Breakfast, uh, I mean, Communion.

It’s odd I suppose to an outsider.  You go to a building, where they worship the Creator, so they say and in the middle of the meeting, they pass out bread and juice and everyone eats-but it’s not a meal because the portion sizes are Barbie-size.  Some places hand out real bread, other pass out “wafers” or little tiny bland crackers.  With juice, usually grape.  Well, actually, always grape or wine.  I have never seen communion with orange juice though might be a fun surprise someday.

But what does it mean?  What in the world is going on?

Here’s the skinny:  You and I have a nature that likes to do bad things, selfish, mean, greedy things.  We like to satisfy ourselves, in every way possible.  Whether it makes sense in the long run or not.  Whether it hurts the people closest to us or not.  Every child, every man, every woman.  We all love to indulge ourselves, doing exactly what we want, with no regard to others.  Of course, we curb those appetites when consequences arise that we don’t like.  We find out real quick that if you want to keep friends, best to not be selfish all the time.  So, we get better at hiding our pride, our arrogance, our gossip so that we can get along better in the world we live in.  We brown-nose, we flatter, we wink—usually with impure motives.

There is a problem with continuing on this “sin” path.  The problem is, well, the Bible spells it out.

Romans 6:23 “The wages of sin is death…”

In other words, the paycheck you get for working for the devil is death.

And we have all done our time clocking in and out, doing the works of the devil.  You may say, “I’m not that bad.  I call my mom on Mother’s day and don’t steal paperclips at work.”

The problem with “I’m not that bad” is that actually you are.  We are.  From early on, we are selfish, greedy, proud.  You don’t have to teach a kid to be bad. I remember when my oldest niece started viciously biting people when they didn’t do what she wanted them to do.  I don’t remember how young she was (2 years old?) and it didn’t last long but she had never seen anyone bite anyone-no one taught her to bite people when they didn’t do what she wanted. No one taught her that and yet it came natural. She eventually stopped. Thank God.

From murder to gossip to sex outside of marriage to lying to cheating to bitterness to worry to lust, the root really is the same:  Pride, arrogance, greed, selfishness.  We may all manifest our sin nature differently and thus “rank” the badness of the sin differently, but actually, we are all just the same.  Sinful.  No one is better, no one is worse.  We all deserve the same wages for working for the devil.  Death.

So, here we are, drunk on death.  Drinking in death, day in and day out.  Intoxicated with ourselves.  Wobbly, unstable, slurring our words and trying to make sense of this life.  Out of our minds.  Drunk as a skunk.  Blood death level of 1.0.  We couldn’t walk a straight line if our lives depended on it.

And then there’s God.  The Giver of Life.  He is Abundant Life, Light, and Love.

John 10:10 (Jesus said) “The devil comes to kill, steal, and destroy but I have come to give Life, and Life to the fullest.

Romans 3:23 For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.  Yet God, with undeserved kindness, declares that we are righteous.  He did this through Christ Jesus when he freed us from the penalty of our sins.  For God presented Jesus as the sacrifice for sin.  People are made right with God when they believe that Jesus sacrificed his life, shedding his blood.”

The deal is this.  God is total Life.  We, choosing to sin, drink in death, straight down to our DNA. Life must be given to swallow death. And life is in the blood. So, blood is the only thing that can cover sin.  Abundant Life covers Abundant Death.  If we, sinful people, are going to have relationship with the perfect Creator, we have got to get rid of our sin.  How?  Our blood is sinful, through and through.  We deserve Hell.

Enter Jesus.  Stage Right.  God loves us so much that He made a substitution.  We can’t pay our own debt, our own penalty.  What do we have to offer that is not already stained through and through?  Nothing.  We got nothin’.  We are totally bankrupt, desolate, empty handed.  Our excuses are futile and lame.

But God in his great mercy knew that.  And so, He sent himself—His Son—Jesus.  Jesus is God and God is God and they are One together.  One God.  I know, I know, I don’t quite get it either.  My little human brain has a hard time comprehending big, God sized things sometimes.  All I know is that it works.

Jesus, came to earth, shoving his big God-ness into a human body, born through a woman (if he just plopped down on the earth, we would have all freaked out). He came the same route we do.  Grew up, going through what we go through, lived sinless (can you imagine raising a perfect child! Mary had it easy!), worked miracles and healing people, and then willingly allowed his creation to murder him.  Shedding sinless blood.  But…HE DIDN’T STAY DEAD.

I mean, for real.  Do you really think “drunk on death” people can keep the Giver of Life down?  Jesus did die.  But He didn’t stay dead.  He rose again.  You can’t find his bones and his tomb is empty.

But right before he died, he showed his followers “Communion” at the Last Supper.  He broke up some bread and passed it around.  He handed out some wine and he said, “Eat and Drink.  The bread is my body and the wine is my blood. Do this in remembrance of me. “

His body and blood are LIFE.  We eat/drink in NEW LIFE when we put our faith in Jesus.  We aren’t cannibals but we remember who He is and what He has done.  We remind ourselves that without his blood, his body being sacrificed, we are back to square one.  Bankrupt and hopeless.  Communion is a symbol of what we believe.  We remind ourselves who He is and what He did.

It’s not breakfast for a 6 year old.  He is a whole feast for the rest of eternity.  And without Him, we would starve to death.  Literally.

So, the choice is yours.  You don’t have to believe it.  You have free will.

You can choose to allow Life to cover your Death–God to pay your debt. Or you can keep going as you are.  Doing the best you can and hoping for the best, thinking that you can get yourself out of this mess.

As for me, I know what I am—Hopeless without Him.

Happy Easter!

Imagine your dad telling you when you were 20 years old, “I know you have been wanting to go to Hawaii for a long time.  You’ve been asking and asking and I have decided, I am going to take you. We are going to Hawaii soon!”

So what do you do?  You start planning.  You buy some white cotton pants, flip flops and a swim suit.  You pack your bags.  You are totally stoked.  You tell all your friends, “I’m going to Hawaii!!”  Everyone starts telling you what restaurants and beaches to go to.  People are giving you advice on surfing.  You google all the things you can do, you look at pictures and find out the history of all the Islands.  You imagine yourself on the beach, looking good, reading a book, splashing in the waves, eating Hawaiian pizza, hiking up volcanoes, going scuba diving, surfing.  You are ready.  You have everything you need.

Weeks go by.  You are still totally stoked and trust that dad is going to do what he said.  You ask, “Hey, so, uh, when are we going dad?”  he smiles and says, “soon”.  No specifics.  Just “soon”.

Weeks turn into months.  A year goes by.  Your bag has been sitting in the corner a long time, untouched.  Every now and then you add something to it.  A few more years go by.  You update the wardrobe you had packed.  You keep asking dad every few months, “So, we still planning on Hawaii?”  He always responds, “Yes, we are going!  And soon!”  You aren’t sure what to say anymore.  He’s still providing great things for you.  Still buying you food, shelter and clothing.  Still just as loving as ever.  And yet, he made a promise.  A promise you still want him to deliver on.

A decade goes by.  The bag just sits there.

“Hey dad-are we really still going?  It’s been 10 years.  I don’t understand why this is taking so long.  I’m not as young as I was.  The sooner I start surfing, the sooner I can be really good at it.  I really want to go.  What about this year?  Why not this year?  Let’s do it, dad, c’mon, let’s just go!”

You excuse your dad so you don’t start hating him or his dumb promise.  Maybe money is just tight right now.  Maybe he is waiting for some vacation time.  Maybe he wants to go during winter time.  Maybe he knows something I don’t about Hawaiian politics and this just isn’t the right time.

Another decade goes by.  You are 40 now.  Still waiting.  Still got your bag.  You stopped updating it.

“Hey so, this is getting kind of old.  Can you just say ‘we aren’t going’ so I can stop being disappointed every year that goes by and we are still in rainy Seattle?  I am not sure I actually believe you anymore that we are going to Hawaii.  I don’t even want to learn to surf.  My friends know not to ask anymore about Hawaii.  It’s a sore subject for me.  I’m sad, dad.  I’m sad we haven’t been able to go on our trip yet like you said we would.  YOU SAID we would go but we are still here!  We haven’t even been on a plane in years.  Why are you making promises you don’t plan on keeping?  I would have been fine if you had said you were kidding about it and we could just get on with our lives.  I don’t understand you.  I don’t understand why we have never gone.  It’s been TWENTY YEARS!  I’m getting old!”

“We’ll go!  Just be patient.”

“Patient?  Are you f****** me?  Patient?  I’ve never swore before in my life but I am swearing now!  I have been waiting 20 f****** years! If that’s not patience I don’t know what is!  I’m done.  I’m throwing out my packed bag.  I don’t want to go anymore.  I don’t want to go with you.  In fact, you know what, I’m leaving.  I’m moving to California.  It’s the closest I will get to Hawaii but I have got to get some sun!”

So you leave.  You settle for California, forgetting about your dad and Hawaii.

The End.

I don’t know what you are hoping for.  I don’t know what promises you have felt God has made to you.  I don’t know how long you have been waiting.  I don’t know how many tears you have shed, how many arguments you have had with God, how many times you have begged, pleaded, and wavered in faith.  But the Bible talks about a man named Abraham.  Abraham got a promise from God that he would have a son.  If I have my facts straight Abraham was around 75 years old when God told him this.  25 years later, he got his promised son, Isaac.  25 years is a really long time to wait for God to deliver.

Romans 4:18  Even when there was no reason for hope, Abraham kept hoping–believing that he would become the father of many nations.

God is not cruel, not playing practical jokes, not sitting up in Heaven laughing at you for believing Him.  God isn’t trying to rip you off, make you mad, make you sad or playing games with you.  God is faithful.  God is good.  God understands you.  God knows what year it is.  God isn’t slow.  God isn’t deaf.  God isn’t far away.  God isn’t mean, ignorant, irrational, bipolar or schizophrenic (no offense if you are).  God is not asleep.  God is not dead.  God is not on vacation in Hawaii without you.  God is not too busy.  God is not rude.  God is not worried.  God has a plan and he is working his plan.

Don’t give up.  I know you are tired of being disappointed, tired of hoping, tired of believing.  Don’t grow weary.  Don’t give in to doubt and fear. Don’t get impatient.

God knows it’s 2012.  He knows how old you are.  He knows the days ahead of you.  You have got to believe that they are good days, incredible days.  When you get your promise, you will have a testimony, a story.

“I remember back in 2012, I almost gave up!  But by the grace of God, I just kept believing!  I don’t know how, but I did!  And now look at me!  I have everything He said I would have and more.  He certainly is a good God!”

The End.

I will do my best to not justify my actions but I will say what I did (or actually didn’t do) has haunted me since.  You can judge me (if you are so bold) though I have a feeling you have your own “Not a Good Samaritan” story.  Let me first start out with the original Good Samaritan.

Basically (if you don’t know the story), it goes like this: A man who was wanting to justify his actions regarding the command of: “Love your neighbor as yourself”, asked Jesus the question, “Who is my neighbor?”.  Jesus replied with a story about a Jewish man who was beat up by bandits.  Two religious people passed by the man without helping him.  Finally a despised Samaritan man came by, took pity on him, bandaged his wounds and took him to an inn, paying all the fees.  The Samaritan acted as a “neighbor” to the man.  (Luke 10)

I kind of read the story though as this:  Some people who called themselves Christians were in a really big hurry half-noticed a dying man and since they didn’t want to get their hands dirty (the man had been beat up before and he deserved it too!), they hurried about their business.  Finally a real Christian (who didn’t know the man deserved it) with tons of time and tons of money walked by and since he had nothing better to do (it was a really slow lazy Saturday), he helped out a dude who had been robbed and beaten.

But I wonder if it could have been told like this: It was Valentine’s Day. Everyone was hurrying to catch the bus after work (with their hands full of flowers and groceries) to make it home in time to cook dinner for the special evening.  Cars slowly moved and the sidewalks were full.  It was about 30 degrees outside.  One man, about 20 years old, was a heroin addict (as evidenced by his reddish puffy hands) and obviously got a good hit because he looked half dead as he half sat on the side walk and some stairs.  He was slumped over and not moving.  A hard-working tired Christian nurse, who was on the phone to her mom, almost tripped over the man.  She glanced at him, trying to see if he was alive, but didn’t want to miss her bus so kept walking.  As she told her mom what was she had seen, her mom started to cry with compassion.  The nurse was use to scenarios like this and didn’t feel like getting involved (her name wasn’t Mother Teresa anyways-ouch!).  As she waited for the bus a half block away, still chatting with her mom (with her hands full of groceries), she silently prayed God would send someone to help the man.  Tons of people passed him on the sidewalk.  A “Downtown Ambassador” on a bicycle passed by the nurse and she prayed, “God, let him see the man and help him!”  The Downtown Ambassador did see the man and within 3 minutes had a fire truck at the scene.  Who was a neighbor to the man?  A paid employee of the city, not a Christian nurse.  

Now, granted, when you work downtown, you see lots of people sleeping on the sidewalk-you see drug deals-you see crazy yelling people-you see lots of things you don’t want to see.  And you turn away.  It’s none of your business.  And what do I have to offer?

I’m not going to give them money (because they will use it on drugs) though I have taken hungry people to lunch before.  The church I attend downtown is closed except for Wednesday night and Sunday.  I can point in the general direction of the Union Gospel Mission but don’t know the exact address.  I can tell them about Jesus but telling someone the Gospel should go hand-in-hand with helping them with their obvious practical need (food, shelter, clothing)-just my personal opinion and as Steve Camp once sang, “Don’t tell them Jesus loves them, til you’re ready to love them too”.

Sometimes I think about the verse: Proverbs 26:17-He who, passing by, stops to meddle with strife that is none of his business is like one who takes a dog by his ears.

There is a time and a place to not interfere for sure but then again,  there is a time to get involved.

Here’s the deal:  I can justify my actions.  I can tell you all the times I was a Good Samaritan.  I can tell you the things I’ve given away to those in need.  I can tell you about the people I have spent time with, telling them about the grace of God.

Maybe the religious people in Jesus’ story had been “Good Samaritans” the day before but not this day.  Can you pick and choose when you have the time and energy to be a “Good Samaritan”?  Can you pick when you want to help someone?  Do we get to choose?  Only when it’s convenient, only when I have nothing else to do, only when I’m not on my way somewhere, only when a certain person is watching, only when it will make a good story, then I will take time to help someone in need, and the person I help better actually deserve it!

They better not smell bad, better not have annoying druggy friends, better not ask for too much, better only need me for 30 minutes, better not call at midnight asking for help. And whatever I do, it better be enough for them.  They better get right on the good path, clean up their act within 2 weeks and never have another problem again or just disappear from my life so I don’t have to be reminded that there is a lot of pain in the world.  They better be fixed.  And God help them if they need me to do more than 5 “Good Samaritan” acts in one week.

When we truly see the root of our actions: the selfishness, the pride, the arrogance, the lust, the stinginess, the hatred-we no longer have a leg to stand on when it comes to defending ourselves.

Actually, I am a double-amputee who by the grace of God was given the legs of Jesus and those legs are fast to help those in need.  I don’t know if that makes any sense but for some reason I like it.

The ground is truly level at the foot of the cross because the roots of all the sins are the same (selfishness, pride, greed, lust, etc).  We have all failed miserably at being pure hearted, pure minded, purely motivated.  But there is a God who is patient and kind and His kindness leads us to repentance.

He is not only the God of 2nd chances.

He’s the God of 3rd chances, 4th chances, 50th chances, 10000th chances (you get the picture).

The other day, I chose to watch a movie I shouldn’t have.

I left the theater feeling like I needed intense post-abuse therapy (as though I myself had lived the story) and a scrub brush for my brain after allowing the devil to take a major crap into my ears and eyes. After arriving home, I went and got the only scrub brush that would work for a job of this magnitude, filled a figurative bucket with figurative soap and figurative water, and allowed the Holy Spirit to get on his hands and knees and start cleaning up the brown mess before it could seep down into my heart and ooze out my mouth. The scrub brush happened to be Romans 1-4 and it did help-with the water/soap of the Word of Grace of God.  I still felt like I wanted to vomit but the intensity of the mess was greatly decreased. The “disaster restoration” may take awhile but the one I have doing this job, never gets tired and works day and night.

Romans 1:28-32 When they refused to acknowledge God, he abandoned them to their own evil minds and let them do things that should never be done.  Their lives became full of every kind of wickedness, sin, greed, hate, envy, murder, fighting, deception, malicious behavior and gossip. They are backstabbers, haters of God, insolent, proud and boastful. They are forever inventing new ways of sinning…they are fully aware of God’s death penalty for those who do these things, yet go right ahead and do them anyways…and encourage others to do them, too.

I apologize if you thought you might read something humorous here.  I have nothing humorous to say.  I’m not even sure I can muster a half-smile for you.

Today, I read something in the Bible that I have read many times but today I cried over it.

Genesis 6:5-6 Now the Lord observed the extent of the people’s wickedness, and he saw that all their thoughts were consistently and totally evil.  So the Lord was sorry he had ever made them.  It broke his heart.

Right after God was sorry, he destroyed everything with a flood of tears except the only man who was blameless (Noah) and his family along with some animals.  God promised to never do that again.  And he has kept that promise.  Fast forward a few thousand years, and now we all have a front row seat in the theater of mankind’s depravity.  The wickedness of what goes on in our world, in secret, in theaters, in basements, in attics, in streets, in brothels, in trains, planes, and automobiles is all seen by a God who desperately loves us.

Can you imagine watching your beautiful creation, these amazing creatures, so capable of doing so much good, engaging in the most wicked things and not only destroying themselves day after day, but destroying each other, the innocent, children, babies, girls, boys, men and women.  And teaching people to continue the cycle, year after year, century after century.  Murdering, raping,  stealing, lying, cheating, killing, and imagining up new ways to do it over and over and over.  You can almost hear God yelling, “What in hell are you doing?  Oh, wait.  That’s Earth!  What on Earth are you doing?  I didn’t create you for this!  You are destroying yourselves.  I LOVE YOU!  I have the key to Life. Shoot, I AM the key to Life, abundant Life.  You could be happy!  You could enjoy Me but you refuse.  I want to be your one True Love.  But you refuse.  You run after others, trying to fill a hole that only I can fill.  I didn’t make you to be so dumb but wow, y’all are really dumb. You think you can find peace and satisfaction in having sex with everything that moves, murdering anyone and everyone, stealing, gossiping, and running all the time—And if you aren’t actually doing it yourself, you watch others do it for you.  Everyone of you has turned away from Me.  Just come home!  Just come back to Me—I’ll give you more than you could dream of.  I’ll fill you with so much joy.  I’ll provide for every need.  I’ll show you things, reveal my grace, and give you more Life than you would know what to do with.  Just come back.  One step in my direction and I will overwhelm you with forgiveness.

And yet, we hold back.  Unsure.  Doubtful.  So full of ourselves, that we can’t see straight.  Our hands so full of sin, we can’t grasp what he offers.  He offers it all and yet, we shrug and downplay just how bad it has gotten.  We feel tired, overwhelmed, lethargic and apathetic.  And yet, just one step towards Him, and we would never look back.  Just one moment with Him, and our lives could be changed.  Our minds so full of insecurity and lies.  The Truth seems…too good to be true.  Our chains, too real.  The cell, all we’ve known.  Besides, we walked into the cell with our own two feet. I deserve to be here.  I deserve this misery.  This 8×8 is home now.  Gray and black are the only colors…can’t even imagine a sunset.  Can’t imagine a flying free bird.  THIS is life.  This is all there will ever be.  I hate the beatings, I hate the abuse.  I hate it and yet, it’s familiar.  I hate it and yet I don’t know how to leave.

But He calls.  He calls every day.  Over and Over.  Come to Me! Come to Me, you tired, miserable people.  You are all I think about.  You are all I want.  His hand offers food through the bars but I choose pig slop.  He offers fresh cool water, but I choose to drink mud.  Come! Just lift your eyes and look at Me.  Our bones and muscles too weak to stand.  Finally, we lazily open an eye, as we lay on the concrete.  Ashamed, we look away.  I’m disgusting.  I’m dirty.  I’m not what you want.  I need clothes.  I need a toothbrush. I need a comb.  I need a shower.  I need some shoes.  I need a manicure/pedicure.  I need a q-tip, some kleenex, and chapstick.  I’m filthy.  You don’t want me.

Day after day, week after week.  He calls.  Just come.  Just come.

You struggle.  I’m chained! I can’t leave even if I wanted to.  Jesus.  Help.  Help.  Help.  Help. Me.

His face.  So bright.  His eyes, like fire but full of Love.

Help me.  Please!  I want out of this hell-hole.  I.  Want. Out.

Gently and swiftly, before you can change your mind, he bites through the chains with his teeth.  Licking your wounds, patting your cheek, stroking your hair.  Wraps you with a blanket and puts you on around his neck.  He roars.  Not a meow.  A roar that knocks down every wall.  And within minutes, you are soaring.  Still weakened by the abuse, but alive.  More alive than you have ever been.  More awake than you have ever been.

Soon, you are strong.  You are clothed.  You are clean.  You smile and laugh.  Your reality now is His Love, not your former misery.

And as time has passed, you have learned his roar, while riding on his back.  And you roar with him, through the walls of the people around you, breaking chains and setting captives free.

INDIFFERENCE (as defined by UrbanDictionary.com): “apathy demonstrated by an absence of emotional reactions”.

PEACE (as defined by UrbanDictionary.com): “Something commonly fought for yet rarely achieved”, “The day when all religion is forgotten. Then there will be peace.”, “a failed philosophy”.

Common definitions of Peace:  Absence of anxiety and worry, inner calmness, trusting that God is bigger than your problems, faith that it’s all going to work out.

Or maybe Peace is:  Forgetting hard things, indifference to trials/attacks/difficulties, ignoring annoying people, shutting out the pain, pulling the covers up over your head, sticking your head in the sand, lacking passion, refusing to fight, looking past problems, sweeping the dirt under the rug.

I remember a scene in the movie “Far and Away” where Tom Cruise has been separated from the woman he fell in love with (Nicole Kidman).  He decided to work on the railroad in the Midwest.  When there were particularly dangerous jobs that needed to be done (using dynamite), the supervisor would call Joseph (Tom Cruise) and his response would be “Makes no difference to me” and then go blow something up and almost die.

He’d lost what was valuable to him and thus, didn’t care whether he lived or died. He wasn’t a courageous, faith-filled, purposeful warrior, out to make the world a better place. Really, he was a depressed, apathetic, grieving man who only looked like he didn’t have a worry in the world.  He was indifferent, not peaceful.

If I start to get anxious about something, start to worry about a situation that doesn’t look favorable, I am able to quickly calm myself down with, “Whatever, it doesn’t matter, I don’t care that much anyway”.

If Starbucks gets my drink wrong (which rarely happens), I decrease my stress by saying basically, “It’s not a big deal, I don’t really care one way or the other, it’s just coffee, I wasn’t expecting perfection, Life is full of let-downs/disappointments”.

I think we all get ideas of where we want to be in 5 years/10 years/20 years.  But what happens when we don’t reach that goal/dream by the 5 year/10 year/20 year mark? I can either say a) I’m a failure–didn’t reach the goal or b) I didn’t want it that bad, who needs ________? Those people that have that aren’t really all that happy, it’s overrated anyways” or c) God is in control, I am trusting him, I’m doing the best I can at the moment, maybe I need some fresh vision to get me to where I want to be.

If I find someone super annoying, I can fane kindness but only allowing myself a certain amount of time with that person and then sprinting for the other side of the room.  But is that kindness?  Is avoiding certain characters kindness?  (Well, yeah, hello…If I stayed one minute longer with them I would punch them in the face-I’m doing them a favor by fleeing and I am staying out of jail-something my mother is happy about).

Sometimes I wonder if these attributes, morals, characteristics we take so much pride in, are truly something to be proud of.

I could go on and on but for now, that’s as far as my revelation will take me.  But I’m going to study what Jesus said in the Bible.  For truly, peace and kindness are all about Him, from Him, through Him, and by Him.

Dear Burglars,

My name is Rhonda. You invaded my home yesterday. I would have rather you took the TV than my laptop. Thank you for not burning down the house or knifing the couches. Thank you for not taking my clothes, my iPod, my files, my journal, or my Bible. But that is enough thank you’s from me.

You are not welcomed back on this property. You are not allowed on the porch.

I will tell you where you are allowed. You are allowed to go to jail. You are allowed to go to my church. You are allowed to go to drug rehab. You are allowed in my clinic. You are allowed to go to Heaven. You are allowed to get your life straightened out. You are allowed to go to the pawn shop and when they run the serial numbers on my laptop, I will be notified. You are allowed to go to your mom’s house for Christmas.

You are allowed to stop believing the devil. He is a liar and he has lied to you. He steals-it’s who he is but that doesn’t have to be who you are.

I believe you can change. I believe you can have a fresh start. You are probably young and on drugs, you can start over! It’s not too late.

But just remember, Jesus is…watching you.

(Preface:  This is not a post pertaining to the straight up truth of the Bible.  The Bible truth doesn’t change no matter who you are. I am also not condoning unethical behavior or immoral attitudes/actions).

There is something about formulas that I just love.  Mathematical formulas (not baby formula).

I remember being in Calculus class (would you believe it just took me 3 tries to spell Calculus right?) in high school and not understanding a blessed thing but when the teacher gave a formula, I was good to go.   Put in some numbers, plug them in where the letters were and BAM I had an answer and an answer was all I cared about.  Wrong or right, an answer was better than nothing.  I didn’t want to over-think it because I really did believe that it would not be something I would care about as an adult (and I was right!).  I don’t remember anything from that class except that we read the Count of Monte Cristo and I learned a whole lot about revenge, wealth, and power.

(And if you are a high school student reading this, please disregard my opinion about calculus having no value in everyday life.)

Who doesn’t want a formula?  A formula for success, wealth, everlasting love, breaking addictions, getting healthy and losing weight, living until 100 years old?

If you eat all organic food and never drink (except 8oz of red wine per week) and eat dark chocolate and never smoke, and take multivitamins, then you will live to be 100 years old and never have any chronic diseases.

So, if I do steps 1-12, then my life will work out, I will reach perfection and everyone will love me?  If I invest in this stock with this amount of money at this time, then I will become a millionaire?  If I say this line, to this person, they will want to be with me for the rest of my life?  If I give this much time to this activity, I will become professional and never have to worry about anything again?  If you get 2 massages per month, your quality of life will dramatically improve?

The funny thing about people giving you “advice”  that worked for them is that you aren’t them.  Their “formula” for success isn’t a formula, it’s strategy for sure, but it’s not a formula or it would work for everyone.

We aren’t letters or number and life isn’t math problems.  We are people-humans with brains who all have different stories, pasts, lifestyles, habits, insecurities, hardships, hangups, pet-peeves, and expectations.

One person quits smoking cold turkey, another needs Nicorette gum, another uses Chantix, one person eats jolly ranchers, one person just needs to move out of their current living situation—And what worked the first time to quit, might not work the 2nd time for the same person.

Seriously, I counsel people to quit smoking and yet, I haven’t found a good way to help 100% of the people.  I have general strategies I give them but let them know that I have never smoked (except in my dreams, and boy, did I love it!).  First, you have to get some good reasons about why you want to quit.  Next, practice saying, “Oh, I don’t smoke”.  Then, tell everyone you are quitting.  Get rid of your ash trays.  Remind yourself why you are quitting.  Set a “quit date”.  Stop buying cigarettes.  Distract yourself when you get a craving and the craving goes away in a few minutes.  Stop hanging out with people who smoke.  Do something else with your hands and your mouth.

I have no formula—just strategies.  I have no idea what will work to help you quit smoking but here’s what some people have tried that has helped.

It’s interesting when people give advice like “formulas” and not like “strategies”.

“Oh I had that exact problem and I did this and that, and I got out of that rut I was in.  You just need to do “this and that” and I guarantee you will be different and everything will change.”

Life isn’t a vending machine.  God isn’t a vending machine.  Even vending machines sometimes don’t work the way you want them to and give you something totally different from the Grandma’s Cookies in C3.

I like formulas so I don’t have to think much, don’t have to try very hard, don’t have to worry about taking any blame, don’t have to take responsibility. Just plug in those number and BAM, get results.

One person gets married because she had an arranged marriage in India, another went to Starbucks, another met the guy when she was 10, another did eHarmony, another chased a guy until he surrendered, another laid at his feet on the threshing floor (Ruth), another was formed out of the dude’s rib, one finally just stopped thinking about it, one met her guy in a Christian commune, one went to Northwest College and found her man, one sat in pew 3, seat 4 for 3 years straight, one simply struck up a conversation with a stranger on the bus, one had a grandma who set her up with someone else’s grandson, one fasted and prayed for 30 days straight, one went out with a blind date.

One person gets rich by gambling, another by stealing, another by saving every penny, another by short sales, another by investments, another by trading, one by inheritance, another by finding an oil supply in the middle of nowhere, one by playing the lottery, one person gets rich by having 1000 rental properties.

One person gets rid of cancer by praying, another by dying, another by eating certain foods, one by going to a certain doctor, taking certain pills.

One person has a baby by in vitro, one by rape, one by adoption, one by the Holy Spirit, one by surrogate mother.

One person makes orange chicken by orange extract, one by orange juice, one by apple cider vinegar and ketchup, one just goes to Panda Express.

One person stays awake while driving by eating tictacs, one by eating ice chips, one by rolling down all the windows, one by pulling over to take a nap, one by blasting rap music.

One person uses WordPress for blogging, some use Blogspot, other use Blogger or thoughts.com or blog.com or livejournal.com.

One person loses weight by only drinking water, another by stapling the stomach, another by losing a limb, one by doing crossfit, one by joining the Marines, one by having a parasite.

My point?  I’ll let you decide.

I just ate 3 popcorn balls and I’m ready for bed.

Picture this:

Quaint, little cafe.  Not the cleanest place but very popular.  Packed with people eating breakfast, talking energetically with friends.  Servers and cooks quickly covering tables and orders.  Two cooks at one long grill cooking up omelettes, hash browns, eggs, bacon, biscuits, pancakes, sausage gravy and toast.  Everyone is pretty much ordering the same thing.  There is one large pot of melted butter on the grill between the cooks.  The cook on the right is soaking the potatoes and everything else with butter by the ladle full.

Basically, it is one big giant grease fest.  And all of us are happily calorized and cholesterofied.

The cook on the left takes a break from the fun and sits at the bar near me with his breakfast.  He carefully cuts up a whole banana for his cereal with milk.  He also has a bowl of plain scrambled eggs and his own thermos of a beverage.  He is the only one eating healthy while reading his book, oblivious to my staring.  I look down at my hashbrowns, eggs, sausage gravy biscuits and back at his breakfast, and again back at my breakfast.  Mouth open.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I absolutely am enjoying my breakfast.  Every bite.  The hash browns are amazingly delicious.

But I am downright intrigued by this man who just cooked me up a heart-attack at my request and yet is eating cereal with banana.

Picture this:

Busy lake/park.  People walking, running, strolling around the lake on the two lane path.  A man in his 60′s is walking, in his jeans, nice jacket and hat.  Well-dressed man.  Very put together and pleasant looking.  A woman, also in her 60′s, well-dressed in a skirt and boots is not on the path.  She is few yards ahead of him, to the left of the path, skipping.  She is skipping.  No one else is skipping.  Skipping is not an activity usually undertaken by those over 12 years of age.  I can’t remember the last time I was skipping.  I like to run, walk, jog, stroll, and sit.  I do not skip.  I use to.  Back when I was 12.   Later, I see them together.  He is walking and she is skipping beside him.  He doesn’t mind.  There are obviously “together”.  He is not asking her to stop.  He is not joining her.  It just is what it is.  And he is okay with her form of exercise.  He is happy.  She is happy.  They are different.  (And for the record, I did skip with her for a little way—It was hard not to smile and laugh as we exchanged pleasantries).

It makes me think of Jesus, sitting with notorious sinners. The religous people walk by them and ask Jesus why he sits with such “scum”. (Luke 5)  It is a lesson of contrast.  Jesus is not intimidated by being different than his surroundings.  He always was.  God, and yet born in a barn, to save mankind from their sin?  Ministering and healing the very people He knew would murder Him?  It’s all very intriguing really.

But think about it.

What would happen if you were yourself,  true to your personality, true to who God made you to be?  Not worried what people will think?  What if you skipped when everyone else was walking and running?  What if you ate bananas while everyone else is eating butter?  What if you made friends with people not like you-ministering and loving on the unlovable?  Not worrying what others thought?

Will people stare, talk? For sure.  But you just might encourage others, to also go down a less-travelled road.  And that, will make all the difference.