In Gennesaret

Today (the day I’m posting this, not the day I’m writing it) is my mother’s birthday. Wilma Louise was born on July 20 th , 1923. She was a remarkable woman, as anyone who knew her could testify. (And feel free to do so in the comments here, friends.) I am celebrating her life today by baking oatmeal cookies – my MOM’s oatmeal cookies. Because they are different than anyone else’s somehow. They are hers. And they scream Wilma Louise. I believe my nieces and nephews have said before that one of their favorite memories of their grandmother was the bag of oatmeal cookies that would always be in the freezer when they came over. I could go on for quite a while about my mother . . . and I believe I have in a previous post somewhere out there. But as I mix up the dough for these cookies to refrigerate overnight, there is one thought that keeps popping up in my brain: what will people do to remember me someday? Not that I expect my kids to do something special on my birthday each year. H...

[ Another revisit from my previous blog -- written eleven years ago. I now think the American church faces a different threat . . . but much of this still applies.] Our Sunday School teacher used that phrase yesterday. Mainstreams and margins . Our society tends to refer to "majorities" and "minorities," but I think these terms are more accurate. You can be a statistical majority and still be on the margins of society. It's not about the numbers. In the context of our discussion, the teacher asked us to consider situations in our lives when we have been in either camp. When have you been in the margins? And when you were, what were your thoughts and feelings about those in the mainstream? Conversely, when you've been in the mainstream, how did you think and feel about those in the margins? We were examining passages in Acts about conflict resolution -- specifically Acts 15, when the Council in Jerusalem had to make a decision about circumcision. Do Gentiles ...

[A post from my previous blog that I just rediscovered - enjoy]   It's a sad thing when you are convicted by your own words. In Sunday School last weekend, I made a brilliant and insightful remark that everyone ooh'd and aah'd over. (At least, that's my recollection of the moment.) We were discussing how we distinguish the Holy Spirit's communication with us from our own self-promoting desires speaking to us. And I mentioned a lesson I learned many years ago: if I really want to hear clearly from God on a matter, I have to put myself in a neutral stance on that matter. I have to get myself to the point that I am genuinely willing to obey God in whatever He says -- even if it is the complete opposite of what I want, even if it makes my life difficult or possibly downright miserable, even if I lose friends and loved ones as a result -- whatever you want, Lord, that's what I want. I am in complete submission. Once I'm there, I usually find God's will is qu...

I’m organizing in my house. Because that gives me joy. (And it’s also in response to the call to simplify in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry , which I recommended in a previous post. And which I am recommending again. Highly.) And part of that job has been going through crap in drawers. One of the things I found is a copy from a page from a book I know I haven’t read: To Hell with the Hustle by Jefferson Bethke. I suspect one of my friends gave this to me, and it would have to have been quite a while ago to be in the spot where it was in my drawer. Interestingly enough, reading it right now was very timely. Bethke says on this page, “I’ve begun to understand that we are created for formation, not goal-setting. . . Formations . . . aren’t about doing something but about being someone . One is usually about activity, while the other is about identity. . . One is about a result; the other is about a process.” Yes. YES. I could have started my house re-organization endeavors wi...

I recently read a monstrous tome by Randy Alcorn called Heaven . It’s not a book I would have necessarily chosen on my own; among other things, it is, as I just said, a monstrous tome: more than five hundred pages. I read it because the ladies in my book club chose it for our discussion. So, I’ve been rather absorbed in the New Earth idea for several months. And that has made for some interesting mental fodder. Because the New Earth will be a place where we are no longer under the curse of the Fall. Still humans living on what is still an earth (this is Alcorn’s take on it – many will argue otherwise) . . . but no longer affected by sin. This brings some interesting ponderings to mind – in particular, what exactly in my personal life and experience is part of the curse of the Fall? For instance, my fat cells. God made fat cells. I suspect they existed under Adam and Eve’s skin in some proportion; I don’t believe their existence is a result of the Fall. But the number of fat cell...

When my daughter moved back home last summer, she brought with her a beautiful white housecat named Prince who turns two years old next month and behaves pretty much like a teenager (although I’ve been reminded that this means he’s behaving pretty much like a cat ). Because I’m almost always the first one up in the morning, he generally greets me at my door expecting some attention. That used to be playtime, but lately, it’s become cozy time. Case in point: after I emerged from my bedroom this morning and planted myself on the living room loveseat, he nonchalantly hopped up there by me, tenderly stepping over my body a couple times to get his head in the vicinity of my hand where chin scratches are easy for me. Then he settled down on the seat cushion snuggled up to my leg, purring and enjoying the weight of my hand on his body. As I felt that contented rumble under my hand and looked at his peaceful, closed eyes, I found myself praying. Jesus, this is what I want. I want to curl u...