The Glue That Holds Everything Together

Glue is one of those things we usually take for granted until we need it. Glue holds the heels on our shoes, for instance, which one rarely considers until one is about to go on stage in a show and suddenly has only one functional, albeit pretty silver dancing, shoe. This happened to me. What to do, what to do? The Show Must Go On. In my case, a handy stage crew member found some dandy glue and in minutes, I was back on my feet.


Being married to a builder, I've been exposed to wood glue, pvc glue, laminate flooring glue, tar for shingles, adhesive for Formica, wallpaper glue. Being a mom and occasional crafter, I've bought Elmer's in the gallon size...and used it. I've also used flour and water mixes in a pinch. Burned my fingers with a hot glue gun. Stuck my fingers together with super glue. 


Glue sticks things together that would not, without the glue, adhere. Put a piece of paper next to another piece of paper and they just sit there staring at one another. Throw in a few dots of glue, and they are suddenly best friends. Glue changes unlike objects to like ones, or at least into combinations that work. Two dissimilar things become one new thing. It's pretty cool when you think about it.


Wikipedia goes into far more detail than most of us need or want, but the first known instance of Man using adhesive was fastening a spear head onto wood with birch bark tar. If you buy into current dating methods (I do not, but that's another blog) this occurred some 200,000 years ago. Nifty, whenever it was. Animal glues became all the rage in Egypt. Various substances were tried and discarded or used until the lamp bulb went off over someone else's head about using something that would work better.


The "something better" has evolved into complex chemicals that adhere on contact, or need time to cure. Some things need specialty glues. There's a neat website at www. thistothat.com that gives what it calls "glue advice". You choose from what you need to join to something, and what you need to join it to, and the site tells you the best product to use. Cool.


There are drying adhesives, contact adhesives, hot adhesives, pressure sensitive adhesives, reactive adhesives, multi-part and one-part adhesives, natural and synthetic adhesives. They all do basically the same thing: hold things together, and like I earlier, we mostly don't think about them unless they stop working, for one reason or another, or we need them and don't have them.


There is a different kind of glue, too, also easy to take for granted. Have you ever been told that "You are the glue that holds this place together"? We'll call these folks Elmers. Elmers may keep things running smoothly in the office, behind the scenes during a stage production, hold complex family dynamics and relationship in balance. The Not-Elmers involved appreciate the results of the Elmers' work but don't always appreciate the Elmers themselves.


It can be lonely, being the glue. An Elmer sees what others don't, sees the things that need to take place in order to form a cohesive unit out of people who don't always want to be cohesive. Too many folks who just want to do their own things, or who see themselves as so independent that they don't need or want anyone else, and it's difficult drawing everyone together to accomplish a task. And of course, since Elmers are human, their well-intentioned perceptions may not always be accurate.


In the workplace, those who refuse to be glued may get fired. In a family, however, it's not that simple. Sometimes you have to let folks go their own separate ways, obviously, hoping and praying that the adhesive won't dry out completely, that there will be eventual return, reconciliation, restoration. Sometimes. Sometimes not. Meanwhile the Elmer of the family, whoever it is, may feel like he or she failed. "I'm the glue! Why is this happening!"


People depend on Elmers, because they are so capable. So dependable. So efficient at pulling everything and everyone together. People get used to their work, subtly growing lax in their own because subconsciously, they know that the Elmers will take up the slack, fill in the gaps they leave. Elmers can be so good at being the glue that they're actually counterproductive to the long term needs of the unit. In a family, each individual needs to grow, mature, develop--there has to be enough breathing space for that happen, and glue can suffocate. Even when it's doing its job, or the job it thinks it needs to do.


Tricky thing, being the glue. Knowing when to pull back and let things fall apart. Knowing when to fiercely, voraciously slather everything in sight in a last-ditch attempt to stick together. Dealing with the fact that others resent you for the very thing they depend on. Being lonely, wanting someone to draw you in, for a change. When Paul told the Galations "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (Galatians 6:9) he was talking to the Elmers.


Have you ever been told that you're the glue? It's an important role. Just remember that it isn't the only role, and it isn't the all-important role you may be tempted to view it as at times. If things fall apart - and they will - it doesn't necessarily mean you have failed. Maybe you just dried out a little. Take care of the glue. Take time to moisturize your Self, however you've discovered you must do in order to, literally, keep it together.


Mothers are often the glue in families. I prefer to think of us as "hot adhesives."






(c) 2012   Permission to use with acknowledgement of source

About Skin

Lyrics | Frank Sinatra lyrics - I've Got You Under My Skin lyrics

There's more than one way to skin a cat, and we just get by...sometimes, anyway....by the skin of our teeth. Beauty is only skin deep, but when you're in love with someone (a beauty or not) you might agree with ole' blue eyes and sing the Cole Porter hit above, I've Got You Under My Skin.

Our skin is the largest organ of our bodies, protecting the rest of us tirelessly -- when does the skin complain? It doesn't ache when we've overworked it. Oh, it flares up if we stay in the sun too long or walk in shoes that don't fit, but for the most part, the skin just does its job, no doubt hoping we will remember to soak in a hot tub once in awhile and rub it down with moisturizer. The skin loves moisture.

Unless we make a living with it -- actors, newscasters, porn stars -- we can easily adopt such a cavalier attitude toward our skin, which by the way makes us look like us, that we place it at risk. I bleached the bathroom today without wearing rubber gloves. When I mow, I don't give a thought to gasoline spillage. I pluck hairs ruthlessly from my face, forget to wear a hat. When I've had the rare facial, cosmetologists have commented on the lack of sun or other damage -- I attribute this to the fact that I am too cheap or lazy to do much besides washing with water and applying lotion in the morning under make-up and at night before I go to bed.

The skin loses upwards of 10 thousand-million skin cells a day which accumulate in our sheets and clothes and are lost in a strong breeze. While we sleep, replacement cells grow back. And we don't even notice.

I'll tell you when you do notice skin. When you overheat a bowl of potato broccoli soup and when you open the door of the microwave, you get splattered with liquid roughly the same temperature as lava. When it burns for an hour or so, it has your complete attention. And the next day...like today, for me...you have not one or two but three ugly blisters on your chest, you really wish your skin could have warned you. "Hey! That boiling noise you hear doesn't just mean it's ready, it means it's dangerous. To me! By extension, to you! Warning! Warning!

Like the time I walked inside a fence with a clearly posted sign warning me of a guard dog's presence, I thought only AFTER the fact that it would have been such a simple matter to avoid the ensuing problems. Just don't go inside the gate. Just don't put the dadgum soup in for so long.

But the deed is done, and now I must live with the consequences, as we always do when we do a deed whether positive or negative. Sometimes we get good results from bad deeds. Sometimes we get bad results from good ones. Sometimes we don't know what the consequences are for years.

Recently, a psychologist told me that he sees all kinds of families in his practice. He sees parents who did everything right and have troubled kids. He sees parents who did everything wrong, and their kids are remarkably well-adjusted. He sees every kind of mixture in between. There are so many variables, when you start talking about people and relationships, that there just is no way of predicting what will work and what won't, or how something will work out.

King Solomon was the wisest man on earth, and he blew it royally. Literally, I might add. Adam and Eve walked with God face-to-face, in the only perfect place that's ever existed on the planet, and they blew it. Why are we so surprised when folks around us behave no better? Why do we beat ourselves up when we can't live up our own ideas about perfection, much less the biblical standards?

The blisters on my chest are not just unsightly, they are God's perfect plan at work. Sterile fluid cushions the top layer of skin and the layers below, allowing time for the new cells to grow, for new skin to be created. Grace is like that. We are all damaged, and grace -- God's unconditional love for us, warts and all -- surrounds us as we heal. Other people can be instruments of grace too, and not just inside of church walls. Indeed, sometimes we find less grace there than anywhere. Wherever we find comfort, acceptance, joy...these are avenues of grace and comfort that can, if allowed to, bring healing to the damaged goods we have become. 

Sometimes we are damaged through no fault of our own. Not often, true enough, but sometimes. Our parents make mistakes. People abuse, take advantage of. We are bullied, talked about, despised by those we want only to embrace as friends, even family. Most of the time, however, we are damaged because of our poor choices, our sense of entitlement where all we are entitled to is to live as best we can, and then go the way of all flesh.

And yet, I have a sense that we are entitled to much more, in a way, than many of us dare to dream or hope.   Our skin was created for more than healing blisters. It was created to be cherished and loved and embraced. Hands were made not just for work, but for holding other hands. Lips were made not just to form words and assist in eating, but for kissing softly and kissing passionately. Our fingers were made to touch and feel, and the rest of the skin made to respond to the touch of someone we love.Someone who is truly under our skin, deep in the heart of us. 

Call me a romantic, and I guess I am. I started out to write about an ugly blister and have managed to fall in love all over again. Hilarious.

Living Beyond a Lifetime

Substitute teaching for an 8th grade Language Arts class today, several students raised their hands when they came to a particular question in the day's assignment. Previously, they had read about Anne Frank (portions of her diary and a play based on the diary) and watched a movie about her life. Anne had written that she hoped she would live on after her death. The students were asked to give their opinions: Did Anne get her wish? 

It was the wording of the question that threw them. When an explanation was given, they had no trouble with the concept. In 2012, a classroom filled with American teenagers was reading about a young girl from another era. Her memory does indeed live on, just as loved ones in their own lives are still living on in their hearts and minds.

Chances are, no one in a future era outside of a family genealogist will be discussing me or you. But it could happen. Anne Frank certainly had no idea that her journal would find its way to us, to classrooms and theaters around the world. Her world was so small, literally hidden away from view. Now it is so big, she would be amazed. I hope that she is amazed. 

Another person of humble beginnings who has gone on to "live" in the minds and hearts of many is not a Frank, but a Francis. We know him as St. Francis of Assisi.


Recently, I had a long, peaceful span of time in which to think about him and appreciate his legacy. Bok Tower Gardens in Lake Wales, Florida includes a special garden named for him. It's not his highest achievement, by any means, but the one most recent in my own admiration. Still it is striking, when seen against the Anne Frank question. Almost a thousand years after St. Francis walked the earth, a humble but beautiful tribute to him stands in countless gardens, etched on countless plaques.

The son of a wealthy merchant, Giovanni Francesco di Bernardone lived a normal, rowdy life. He was a soldier. He enjoyed sports, buying things, having fun with his friends. He was a lover of all things French, so much so that he was given the nickname Francis. It stuck. Francis was known for having a tender heart toward the poor from an early age, but had he not had a vision, he would be forgotten, no doubt, by history. 

It was only one point on the timeline of his spiritual awakening and growth, but a life-changing point. He saw Christ in a vision telling him to build his church. The building he was in at the time was in ruins; he sold some of his father's goods to give the priest money to make repairs. For this, he got the appreciation of the church. Also beatings by dear old dad, who apparently did not share his son's altruistic views.

It's one thing to give away money that belongs to others (although politicians are especially gifted at this!) but another to sacrifice your own belongings, talents, time. In his 20s, Francis heard a sermon that changed his life even more profoundly than the vision of Christ.

Think about that. A simple sermon on a simple text from the gospel of Matthew:

10 Jesus called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out impure spiritsand to heal every disease and sickness.

² These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon (who is called Peter) and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; ³ Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; ⁴ Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.
⁵ These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. ⁶ Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. ⁷ As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ ⁸ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy,^[a] drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.
⁹ “Do not get any gold or silver or copper to take with you in your belts — ¹⁰ no bag for the journey or extra shirt or sandals or a staff, for the worker is worth his keep.

Apparently Francis was so convicted by the words that he took them literally and began to preach a simple message of repentance in his bare feet, not even a walking staff in his hand. Eventually, other men were drawn to him, hearing that oft-misunderstood but powerful call to "come and suffer." 

You can read more about St. Francis' life and the ministry that continues today. While you're at it, check out the life and message of a contemporary who was moved by Francis's life in much the same way that Francis was himself moved by a sermon. John Michael Talbot was a gifted secular musician who became disillusioned with what the carnal world had to offer, embraced Catholicism, and became a Franciscan monk. His music and ministry have blessed me personally.

Many years ago, my husband and I accompanied a youth group to a Jesus Festival in central Florida. I don't remember which of our four children was a nursing infant at the time, but I had gone to our car during a concert to discreetly feed him or her. John Michael Talbot was announced over the loudspeakers nearby. His clear, soothing voice rang out as he accompanied himself on acoustic guitar. Such peace filled the car! I sat there and revelled in it, wallowed in contentment and spiritual grace.

A blessing came through John Michael Talbot. Which came because of St. Francis. Which came as the result of a simple sermon. Which was inspired by the life of Jesus. Which was given by the breath of God.

James 1:17 says that "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." We can trace so many blessings...all our blessings, as a matter of fact...back to him. 


But thank God also for those along the timeline who gave voice to their visions. Who walked out their faith. Who left us a legacy. Who give us joy.

And think about the legacy we will ourselves leave behind.




(c) 2012  Permission to use with acknowledgement of source.

April 14, 2012 Breath

When the Breath wanders, the mind is unsteady, 

but when the Breath is still, so is the mind still." 

- Hatha Yoga Pradipika

And with that (Jesus) breathed on them 

and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit."

John 20:22

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

 Psalm 150:6

I am hardly what you would call a yoga devotee, but I know Child's Pose and Downward Dog and can hold my own while I do either the Stress Relief or Flexibility portions of my $10 yoga dvd from Walmart. One of the things that the woman instructor talks about is the important of breathing.

It's not as obvious a thing as you might think. Breathing is an automatic reflex - we don't normally have to think about inhaling and exhaling. Depending on a person's physical needs and special conditions, humans breathe an average of 18,000-30,000 times a day, mostly without ever considering the amazing exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide that is necessary for life on this planet.

You don't want a science lesson at the moment, perhaps, but some time when you do, you might want to google it. Mammals need oxygen, which plants give off. Plants need carbon dioxide, which mammals give off. It's miraculous thing, when you think about it, the relationship we share with other living things.

Before I break into a Disney song, however, there is one kind of breath that is of particular importance. Belly breathing, diaphragmatic breathing, pranayama...whatever you want to call it (and those are just for starters...there is a whole subculture of society apparently devoted to breath) deep breaths which enlarge the abdomen rather than the chest alone has proven to be helpful during times of stress and anxiety.

Recently, I was at a rehearsal for a show. Things weren't going all that well; folks were running late. The  lighting was problematic. How would we not trip over that cord while dancing? Why wasn't that mic working? The director literally came out from behind the curtain not once, but several times, and counted to ten. As he counted, his breathing slowed, even if he was unaware. As his breathing slowed, his heart rate slowed. His muscles relaxed. His tension lowered.

It's not hocus-pocus or mind over matter. That's just the way we were created. God breathed life into the first man, has breathed life into every person since in some unexplainable way. Does he wait until the baby exits the womb? Does the fact that the baby in utero receives oxygen through the mother's blood via the umbilical cord account for it? I don't know. The point is, we were meant to breathe, and the breathing process is designed to help beyond the mere intake of oxygen.

From the Textbook of Natural Medicine via Webmd:

Have you ever noticed how you breathe when you feel relaxed? The next time you are relaxed, take a moment to notice how your body feels. Or think about how you breathe when you first wake up in the morning or just before you fall asleep. Breathing exercises can help you relax, because they make your body feel like it does when you are already relaxed. 

Deep breathing is one of the best ways to lower stress in the body. This is because when you breathe deeply it sends a message to your brain to calm down and relax. The brain then sends this message to your body. Those things that happen when you are stressed, such as increased heart rate, fast breathing, and high blood pressure, all decrease as you breathe deeply to relax.

People often view yoga as being just one step below chanting and panhandling at airports wearing orange robes, but my limited experience has been only positive. After our son's death in 2000 I took a few yoga classes and benefited from a few hours when I just was, if you can understand what I am saying. Focusing on breathing and getting into the correct position gave my mind the freedom to be...to be quiet, to be aware of only that room and that moment.

Fast-forward 12 years, and I have become (1) more self-aware, (2) under even more stress (not greater, just more varied). The self-awareness leads me to look for ways to take care of Ellen, to manage my own spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical health instead of looking outward. At 54, I have a pretty good idea of what I need to do and be about in order to maintain, what I need to do to grow, what I need to do to more fully experience joy and peace.

One of those things is fitness. One is relaxation. Yoga happens to meet both needs at once. The emphasis on deep, full, complete breathing helps even after I've rolled up my  pink rubber mat and turned off the dvd player. Because there is no place I am likely to not be breathing, there is no place that I cannot breathe more slowly, more controlled, more deeply, more effectively.

"Breathe on me, breath of God" is an old hymn, but Hillsong, the Australian ministry, has a new version. I invite you to watch and listen to this video as you slow your own breathing down:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBLneDaq8H0

And isn't it interesting that yoga's Child's Pose is also a classic position of prayer? Take a look at Matthew 18:1-5:

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.

Deep breaths, my friends. Deep breaths.

March 28, 2012 The Unspeakable Thing About God

When times are good, be happy; 

but when times are bad, 

consider: 

God has made the one 

as well as the other. 

Ecclesiastes 7:14

Nothing so captures the heart of a community as the death of a child. Just two days ago, the death of a nine-year-old boy in Fort Pierce, Florida has done just that. A memorial service was held today for Aaron Beauchamp, the only student to die aboard the France K. Sweet Elementary School bus that crashed.  

Aaron

At this time, five other children remain in critical condition. The bus driver, a man whose driving record has been impeccable throughout his driving career, will never forget that tragic day, or the tragic decision to turn in front of a semi. An accident. Certainly the family and friends of all who were involved will never forget the day either. March 26 will live forever in their minds. It will haunt them. Perhaps even the number 26 will do this, or the number of the bus. Details, details.

I would venture a guess that somewhere tonight, even as I type this, someone is asking why God allowed such a thing to happen. Going so far as to say that God must not exist, because if a loving God existed, this kind of thing could not happen.

It's a point well taken. A loving God would want his children to prosper, succeed, do well, be happy, be healed. Right? 

Many years ago, just months after my own son died following a car accident, I sat in a Sunday school room listening to a testimony. I was visiting the church for the first time -- our former church home, the one we had helped start, had become less than nurturing, less than friendly due to judgmentalism and legalism and all the other isms that man-made religions (or man's interpretation of Christianity) historically inflict -- and was hopeful of finding a welcoming place. 

I was still raw from the loss of our son, so it was unfair, really, to expect a new church to meet my needs, but one testimony in a Sunday school sent me packing.

The woman sharing so enthusiastically had almost had an accident, you see, but God had intervened. God is so good! He is so loving! He protected her! This near-miss proved that God is sovereignly watching over his beloved, that all is as it should be.

Bullshit. And no, I'm not going to ask you to pardon my French. That's an honest, heartfelt assessment of that particular brand of God-gushing, and it's in plain English. God is God. He does whatever the hell he wants (she said ironically) and for whatever reasons he deems best. Sometimes he protects and delivers and heals. Sometimes he lets people die. He's still God. We're still not.

See, we can't have it both ways. We can't rave about God's love and care when things go right, and then say, well, God didn't have anything to do with a tragedy. Of course he did. He either is God or he isn't. 

Could God have prevented my son's death? Aaron Beauchamp's death? Abso-freakin'-lutely. He also could prevent the death of innumerable children and others slightly less likely to pull on our heartstrings...every minute or every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year of every decade of every century of every millennium.

Why doesn't he? I have no idea. I've been fed the same tired stories of his not interfering with human will that you have. I've heard the "It's God's will." I've heard the "God's permissive vs. perfect will." I've heard the cries of "unfair God" or "no-God-at-all" when things go bad, oddly unaccompanied by the "fair God" and "praise God" when things go well.

Every day that we live, we owe allegiance to the Creator of the universe. He created us. He breathed life into us. There is no blessing we receive that has not come from his hand. If we worked for it, he gave us the ability to work, the talent to perform. Grace. Unmerited favor. We're born in our father Adam's sinful likeness, yet he lets us live because he loves us and wants us to get to know him, wants us to find the way back to him.

And sometimes...always. Always. ALWAYS, there are tragic times. The woman in the Sunday school class had apparently not had hers yet or she wouldn't have babbled on about proof of God's love in her life when she escaped injury in a freaking car accident. Her time is coming. "In this world you will have trouble," Jesus said in John 16:33, and he was talking to the guys he loved best.

Did you catch that? YOU WILL HAVE TROUBLE. Maybe it will be a physical problem. Mental illness. Financial woes. Marital difficulty. The death of a loved one. Career setbacks. Crimes against you. Crimes perpetrated by you. You will have trouble. It doesn't mean there isn't a God, any more than a (temporary) lack of trouble means that you are blessed.

We have finite minds. We can't understand. We don't fathom the mysteries of God. But I am convinced that God exists, and that his plan for us is good. The best, actually:

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen (Ephesians 3:20-21, New International Version).

He is able to do more than we ask or imagine. That he doesn't always DO  what we ask or imagine is his business...and by extension, his problem. We don't have to like it. We don't have to approve of his methods. He's still God. I believe that we can trust him to work, as Paul wrote, all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purposes (Romans 8:28).

All things. All. Things. Even the really horrible ones.

The friends and family of Aaron Beauchamp are going to have some questions for God. I would be surprised if he answers them. Lord knows, I'm still waiting for answers to MY questions. 

But one thing I know: God loves us. We are created for eternity. My son, and little Aaron, are there right now. 

March 10, 2012 Spamming Heaven's Throne Room

Spam, as you must know, is unwanted e-mail. Junk e-mail. E-mail sent to bulk lists from people who do not know you, about things you probably want no part of. Today I saw that I had accumulated over 200 entries in my spam folder since the last time I emptied it; a quick look reveals the usual satellite tv promotions, large amounts of money waiting for me in the Central Bank of Ghana, loans, sweepstakes, various helps for erectile dysfunction, assorted coupons, and invitations from hot local singles who want to meet me.

Spam is named for a comedy routine, oddly enough. Says Wikipedia:

According to the Internet Society and other sources, the term spam is derived from the 1970 Spam sketch of the BBC television comedy series Monty Python's Flying Circus. The sketch is set in a cafe where nearly every item on the menu includes Spam canned luncheon meat. As the waiter recites the Spam-filled menu, a chorus of Viking patrons drowns out all conversations with a song repeating "Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam... lovely Spam! wonderful Spam!", hence "Spamming" the dialogue.The excessive amount of Spam mentioned in the sketch is a reference to the preponderance of imported canned meat products in the United Kingdom, particularly a brand of tinned ham (Shoulder Pork hAM = SPAM) from the USA, in the years after World War II, as the country struggled to rebuild its agricultural base. Spam captured a large slice of the British market within lower economic classes and became a byword among British children of the 1960s for low-grade fodder due to its commonality, monotonous taste and cheap price — hence the humour of the Python sketch.

Whatever. But today it dawned on me that a lot of what we call "prayer" may be perceived, in heaven, as the spiritual equivalent to spam. Jesus instructed us how to pray in the gospel of Matthew, chapter six:

  Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

God is appropriated addressed and reminded of his holiness. The desire to see his will accomplished is stated. A request is made for provision (surely it didn't sound so much like a demand in the original language!), forgiveness, guidance, and protection, followed by another reminder to the Almighty of how awesome he is. Amen...so be it, in other words...and that's it. Very concise, as are most of the prayers that show up in scripture. Either that's what he prefers, or some editor has a lot to answer for someday.

Jesus also instructed us that less is more, prayer-wise. His introduction to the "Our Father" tells us that we aren't to think that public praying or lofty-sounding words hold any merit:  ⁵ “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. ⁶ But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. ⁷ And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. ⁸ Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him "(Matthew 6:5-8 NIV).

I've changed the way I pray over the years. After our son Adam's death in 2000, it struck me that God is God. He does whatever he wants without regard to our timetables or preferences. He does things for his own reasons. His plans are top priority, and regardless of OUR plans, his are the ones that eventually unfold. His reasons are superior to ours, don't get me wrong! But we don't always see it at the time. We don't always understand what he is doing or why. Still, he is God, and we are not. So I stopped praying for things the same way and started reminding him of this fact.

"You are going to do what you want to, anyway," I will say. "And I trust that what you want is the Best...but I do ask you to be merciful here. Show yourself to be strong and loving in this situation." I'm convinced that affirmation is the Lord's love language, so I tell him how wonderful he is. A lot. It's true, and I'm convinced he enjoys hearing it.

I also tell him what I hope he does in a situation, the answer that seems to  me, in my very limited capacity and understanding, to be ideal. As if I had a clue, but I remind him of that also. Not trying to tell you your job, obviously, but if I were you... He's my Father, after all. What dad doesn't appreciate honest communication from his kids, even if it is childish and foolish?

A man recently shared with me that over the last year, he has adopted the practice of praying the Serenity Prayer each day, and that it has transformed his life so much so that he puts it right up there with the Lord's Prayer in terms of personal significance. Originally written by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, it has been adopted by Alcoholics Anonymous and various other 12-step groups:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.

Since then, I've found myself reflecting on these simple words more often. Maybe it's because there are so many, many things around me that I've finally realized I have absolutely no chance of changing! What a freeing revelation this is! It's not up to me! Yay! There are things about others, my life, circumstances, my own heart...that I am powerless to control or change.

OK, so I don't take xanax.
It's still funny.

Granted, there are other things, especially within myself, that I need to address, correct, develop. But most of the things that overwhelm me are things I can't do anything about anyway. I need to recognize this on a daily, sometimes an hourly, basis. And I need God's help even here. I am powerless even to recognize what I am powerless to change.

Simple pleasures are often the best, and it seems from scripture that simple prayers are most pleasing to God. I need you, I love you, I want your truth to grow in my life. You're the greatest. If not for you, I'd be dead. Thank you for your mercy, without which I couldn't hope to approach your throne to thank you for it.

I have a feeling that if we go much beyond this, if we beg and plead and show up with our wish lists as if to approach the great  bearded Santa in the sky, it's regarded as so much spam. 

Which isn't, after all, even kosher.

February 8, 2012 Identity Theft of the Worst Kind

If you are a victim of identity theft, what is your gut reaction? You get angry, right? You may be angry at yourself for being gullible or forgetful -- answering a phishing e-mail and supplying confidential information, or leaving a credit card on top of the gas pump -- but likely you are angry at the person who infiltrated your life for his or her own gain.

It would be reasonable to be angry in such a case. That kind of anger makes sense.

I'm angry this morning about a different kind of identity theft. The word "Christian" has been stolen out from under the Church and it pisses me off. And yes! Christians get pissed off, or they should. We are created in God's image, and God expresses emotions. He feels compassion. He is love, 1 John 4:8 tells us. And he gets angry. 

If you look at scripture, God gets angrier at those who know him and disobey anyway than he does at those who are far away from him. Assuming you are a Christian reading this, that means that the God of the universe gets mad at YOU more often than he does at, say, a random evildoer getting his kicks.

This is not a comfortable thought.

But he is also angry when people masquerade as his people for the purpose of manipulating truth and spreading terror. One of the scariest passages in the Bible, to me anyway, is this:

John 7:15“Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. 16By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? 17Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. 18A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. 19Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.21“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?’ 23Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

Powerful, effective people. Capable of persuading crowds, drawing followers. Performing miracles! I don't know about you, but I've never performed one. These folks apparently do it routinely. And Jesus says he's going to tell them that he never knew them. Sorry. No can do. Get out. Go to hell. Literally. I mean it....go. Now!

Jesus was speaking to Jews at the time, but certainly he could be speaking to Christians. "Among you," he might say, "among those who bear the label 'Christian,' are people who are working against me and my principles. I'm not talking about the ones who don't know any better, who are sincerely trying to please me and just happen to have their heads up their asses at the the moment (my paraphrase, obviously, of a hypothetical sermon). I'm talking about the ones who were recruited by Satan himself for nothing more than to do his own business: to steal, kill, and destroy."

People like Joseph Kony in Africa, leader of the Lord's Resistance Army. Well, hold on there, Ellen! We've always known that the Christian army is the only one in the world that shoots its wounded. Are you attacking a brother?

John Ocholo, a victim of the LRA's
practice of mutilating enemies.

Kony is no brother of mine. And if he's a brother of yours, you are no relation either. Kony claims to be a messenger of God, filled with the Holy Spirit, sent to follow the Ten Commandments. His methods? Take a band of followers, rape and then kill all the women in the village, kill all the men in the village, and either kill or steal the children to train them to be killers themselves.

Kony and the LRA has created such terror in Africa that experts believe the only solution is assassination. Kony is not the type to go quietly -- attempts to kill him have not ended well for the special ops soldiers sent to do the job. He and his army live on the move, hidden by the land, protected by the silence of those who fear them.

A village in Africa after the LRA's
"evangelistic" crusade.

So I'm angry. Angry at what he is doing. Angry that he calls himself a Christian, when he is just the opposite, a true anti-Christ ruling over his own little kingdom. 

I'm also angry that instead of rallying behind whatever groups would work to end his reign of terror, noted radio commentator Rush Limbaugh committed the cardinal sin for the media. He went on the air and ran his mouth without even cursory research to support his venom, actually criticizing President Obama for sending 100 advisers to Africa to help combat the Lord's Resistance Army. He led listeners to believe that our president was trying to wipe out African Christians, thus proving his Muslim leanings. WTF? *

That's just wrong. And Rush knows it was wrong. But this was waaaay back in October, and he still hasn't retracted his statements as far as I can tell. A little two-step about being misinformed, but nothing along the lines of "I was wrong to imply that Obama is trying to kill Christians in Africa. I was wrong to use the tragic murder of women, men and children to further my own warped agenda. Please forgive me."

If he really wanted to make it right, he would apologize...publicly... to President Obama and the military personnel deployed to carry out orders against the LRA. And while he's at it, he should apologize to every Christian in the world who resents being lumped in with a rapist and murderer and kidnapper.

Being Christians, knowing that we require forgiveness ourselves on an appallingly regular basis, we'd forgive Rush.

Being smart, we'd find someone a bit more credible to listen to on the radio.

And if we are wise and good and deserving of the label Christian (literally, "Christ-like," so it's a  real stretch for all of us) we will pray that God brings an end to the LRA very, very soon. 

And that we will raise up as the kind of army of believers we are called to be: loving, compassionate, trustworthy, honorable, righteous...

Permission to reprint with acknowledgment of source.

*Wrong, This Feels! What did you think I meant? You were probably correct.