In Gennesaret

It’s one of those things that you are embarrassed about later, even if you really shouldn’t be. When I got home from a play Saturday night, I went into my bathroom to get ready for bed and saw the door to my walk-in closet was shut. That may not seem weird to you, but it was to me. In fact, that was my exact thought: “That’s weird. Why did I shut the door?” Because I almost never have a reason to shut that closet door. It gets better. I reached out to open the door to put my shoes away, and the door was locked. Y’all, I didn’t even know that closet door could lock. “What the heck . . . how in the world did I . . .?” I looked the knob over and messed around with it for a while. There was one of those little pokey-hole things (forgive my limited mechanical vocabulary), and I started looking for a paper clip to poke in there and get the knob unlocked. All the while I’m thinking, “How in the world did I accidentally lock this door? I mean, I never even have a reason to touch the kno...

It’s one of those Bible stories that you’ve heard a million times if you grew up in the church. It’s at the end of Mark 4: Jesus calming the storm. But Alistair Begg preached on the story the other day on my way to work, and I was reminded once more that the Word is “living and active . . . discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” God has already used the calming the storm stories in a mighty way in my life (thus the name of this blog -- you can read about that  here ). So, I  was  listening to Brother Alistair with a calm smile. Yes, yes. He calms our storms. Hallelujah, thine the glory. Jesus saves, Jesus saves. But then Alistair took a detour that was new to me. Although we may wonder, he said, why the Lord allowed this sudden storm, perhaps it is more profitable to ponder the things that we know are not reasons for the storm. For instance . . .  The storm did NOT happen because they were being disobedient. Jesus specifically told them, “Let’...

I post the following with great trepidation. And it saddens me that I have to be so afraid. How did we get to the place where we can’t disagree without being mean to each other? I have NO intention to use this blog as a political platform, but I am aware of the scope of my audience here. I may speak now and never speak on the matter again . . . but I’m not sure I’ll be able to live with myself if I don’t speak up at all. So . . . here we go. ----------------------------------------- Having lived in Sioux City for a few years, I have many friends in Iowa – people whom I love and respect. People who are very likely Republicans. People whom I expect to be voting in next week’s caucus. So, I’m making a passionate plea to you, my hawkeye friends: if you intend to caucus for Trump, please reconsider. Let me start here: You’re reading this post written by a friend whom you also love and respect (I hope). A friend who I would guess agrees with you on most policy issues and probably share...

Ann-Margret gave me the idea. In her regular weekly email I subscribe to, she shared with us that this year, she was making resolutions that were doable and enjoyable. “Use more stickers.” “Bake more cookies (and then give them away).” Things that were easy to accomplish and that would add joy to her life. Oh, I like that idea. I am a Planner to the core of my being. I set goals, make lists and charts, with sub-lists and outlines . . . New Year’s resolutions are right in my wheelhouse. But she’s right that those kinds of resolutions often start feeling like the critical schoolmarm, shaking her finger at you about all the ways you are failing and how you need to whip yourself into shape. My shape does indeed need some whippin’ in a few areas. However, I am actually more likely to act without the necessary enforcement of the whip if I’m in a rested, joyful state to begin with. I can pass up the extra dessert if I don’t feel like I need it to boost my sagging energy a bit. I can tackle ...

“Joy to the world!” we sang a couple nights ago. I love the Christmas Eve service at my church. Very traditional, very sweet. "The Lord has come." Yes, he is here! “Let earth receive her king!” Yes, earth – do so! “Let every heart prepare him room . . .” And that stopped me short. Because I haven’t thought about that line much, I don’t think. Prepare him room . . . every heart must do that, including mine . . .   how exactly do I prepare room in my heart for Jesus? I have a guest room in my little house, and when I have someone coming to visit, I prepare that room for them. I dust and sweep and check for cobwebs (and random dead wasps and scorpions – I do live in Texas, y’all). I change bed linens, making the bed comfortable for sleeping in the current season. I make sure the clock is set correctly and the closet has room for their items. I also have a little bookshelf in there where I put books my guest might be interested in. (I got that from my mother-in-law, who alw...

I was the substitute teacher in my Sunday School class yesterday, the Joy Sunday of Advent. So we talked about joy. Which is literally (and perhaps ironically) my middle name. Ironically because I’ve struggled a lot with depression and discontentment over the years. I would read scripture like Galatians 5 and think, what is this “joy” you speak of? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I certainly had happy times. Lots of them, for sure. But there’s a difference between happiness and joy. Happiness is more dependent on external factors and is therefore more fleeting and temporary. Joy is an internal state, the condition of one’s life. And Jesus told us he intended for us to have his joy, to have complete joy. And . . . nope. Couldn’t say I could relate to that one. So, yeah. Joy. What made me think it was a good idea for me to teach about this in Sunday School? Mainly because I was recently reminded of an analogy I heard years ago: the image of a pilot taxiing an airplane down the h...

“Some people love dogs; I love trees,” my friend shared with our group a while ago. She said she names the trees in her neighborhood, and I thought that was sweet. So, while I was out on my walk the next day, I started looking at the trees and considering what names they should have. This one reminds me of that stern, elderly man in my church growing up – Dale. This one is squatty and fat, but with a vibrant green spread on top – LaOuida. This young thing is still holding its arms close, afraid to branch out – Timmy. But we have this cool kind of tree down here in South Texas: the Live Oak. For the record “live oak” doesn’t mean the opposite of a dead oak. It’s a particular type of oak, and they are some of the coolest trees ever. They grow all haywire in fascinating swirls around the yard. And not just the branches at the top – the trunks themselves are all catawampus. Some (like the one in this picture) almost look like two freakish trees melded together. It's not unusual to se...