When my children were in the pre-school and early elementary years, I frequently heard, “It’s not fair.” Not wanting to endure that verbiage for the next fifteen years, I must confess that early on I told them that life wasn’t fair. If it was, we would all be going to hell. (You will be relieved to know that additional theology accompanied that statement.)
Many parents feel that it is critical to be fair. Everyone seems to be screaming for fairness to prevail. The media loves to capitalize on injustice.
Lamentations 3:24 says, “The Lord is my portion says my soul, Therefore I hope in Him.”
God is my Portion—my fair share. You can’t get a better part, a fairer share. Whenever I get the short end of the stick, the smallest piece of pie, the illness instead of the healing, the absence of recognition, the closed ear, the closed door, the lack of appreciation, I have no lack—God is my portion. My share is more than fair.
Psalm 73:26, Psalm 119:57, Psalm 142:5, Jeremiah 51:19
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
People with thoughts just like me. People with dreams just like me. People with fears just like me.
But I haven't heard the screams, the crashes, the terrors of an earthquake for hours and days and weeks. I haven't felt the parch of my throat aching for moisture. I haven't frantically searched for my child, my mother, my friend.
I read last week that these earthquake survivors desperately need people to listen to them—just listen. Not counseling, not advice--just someone to listen. "Weep with those who weep."
Jane isn't in Haiti, but she needs a listener. She is troubled by the behavior of her teenaged son. He's a good kid, but he's making a few questionable choices. Jane talks to her friend; she talks to a leader; she talks to an adult who knows her son. No one listens. Each one is quick with an action plan for Jane. Jane feels judged, alone. She feels "less than."
There is a call for listeners—and not just in Haiti. Can I listen and share someone's pain without speaking of a fix, a solution (even if it's in my thoughts). Do I think myself to be so capable that I must have a solution for everyone?
How long can I listen? I have read it; I know it; I just don't do it. Only special people and special occasions entice me to listen. If I listen to the least person, I have conveyed the person of Jesus—The Solution. He listens to me—every time.
But I haven't heard the screams, the crashes, the terrors of an earthquake for hours and days and weeks. I haven't felt the parch of my throat aching for moisture. I haven't frantically searched for my child, my mother, my friend.
I read last week that these earthquake survivors desperately need people to listen to them—just listen. Not counseling, not advice--just someone to listen. "Weep with those who weep."
Jane isn't in Haiti, but she needs a listener. She is troubled by the behavior of her teenaged son. He's a good kid, but he's making a few questionable choices. Jane talks to her friend; she talks to a leader; she talks to an adult who knows her son. No one listens. Each one is quick with an action plan for Jane. Jane feels judged, alone. She feels "less than."
There is a call for listeners—and not just in Haiti. Can I listen and share someone's pain without speaking of a fix, a solution (even if it's in my thoughts). Do I think myself to be so capable that I must have a solution for everyone?
How long can I listen? I have read it; I know it; I just don't do it. Only special people and special occasions entice me to listen. If I listen to the least person, I have conveyed the person of Jesus—The Solution. He listens to me—every time.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Have you seen the movie, “The Blind Side”?
It’s based on a true story, and it’s a sports story, both of which make it appealing to me. But the message of the movie is the importance of identifying and protecting your family—covering the blind side.
We all have blind sides. Maybe I’m so focused on one aspect of my life that I can’t see where I’m slipping. Perhaps it’s a sin that is so habitual that I can’t see the effects of this sin on my life or the lives of those I love. Could it be that I am so flattered or enamored by someone’s words or actions that I don’t notice the obvious pitfalls looming in the path I am choosing?
I need my blind side covered—and so do you. I must be diligent to cover the blind sides of those with whom I have relationship—whether that allegiance is deserved or not.
After that great ark-builder, Noah, got his feet on the terra firma, he planted a vineyard. Next step—wine. Noah must have sampled a lot of product. Ham, Noah’s middle son, discovered his drunk, naked father in the tent.
Instead of covering Noah’s blind side, he did what we are all too eager to do—he left his father “as is” and gave his brothers some spicy information they might not have known about their father. He exposed his father’s blind side. Ham’s two brothers quickly and carefully covered their father and by doing so received the blessing that Ham could have had.
I don’t think about the blessing I am forfeiting when I fail to cover someone’s blind side. I’m usually more focused on the way it feels to be the one “in the know”—the bearer of tasty morsels of information.
In the Present Moment, whose blind side are you covering? Have you built the relationships that will provide covering for your blind side?
We are believing that God is using HOPE in to provide tools and relationships to cover our blind sides. Please feel free to participate in any one of our workshops in 2010
We all have blind sides. Maybe I’m so focused on one aspect of my life that I can’t see where I’m slipping. Perhaps it’s a sin that is so habitual that I can’t see the effects of this sin on my life or the lives of those I love. Could it be that I am so flattered or enamored by someone’s words or actions that I don’t notice the obvious pitfalls looming in the path I am choosing?
I need my blind side covered—and so do you. I must be diligent to cover the blind sides of those with whom I have relationship—whether that allegiance is deserved or not.
After that great ark-builder, Noah, got his feet on the terra firma, he planted a vineyard. Next step—wine. Noah must have sampled a lot of product. Ham, Noah’s middle son, discovered his drunk, naked father in the tent.
Instead of covering Noah’s blind side, he did what we are all too eager to do—he left his father “as is” and gave his brothers some spicy information they might not have known about their father. He exposed his father’s blind side. Ham’s two brothers quickly and carefully covered their father and by doing so received the blessing that Ham could have had.
I don’t think about the blessing I am forfeiting when I fail to cover someone’s blind side. I’m usually more focused on the way it feels to be the one “in the know”—the bearer of tasty morsels of information.
In the Present Moment, whose blind side are you covering? Have you built the relationships that will provide covering for your blind side?
We are believing that God is using HOPE in to provide tools and relationships to cover our blind sides. Please feel free to participate in any one of our workshops in 2010
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