As I go about my days, driving to my kids’ schools to volunteer, heading to the grocery store, cleaning, relaxing, going about my day-to-day life, I can see the face of God smiling at me, patiently waiting for me to remember Him.  He’s not angry.  He knows me, and He knows I’ll return to Him.  The problem is, because I know this, I can keep Him pushed away for a while longer.  Because I know He’s there, patiently waiting for me to return, to fall to my knees and pray, to pray like I’ve never prayed before, to sing songs to Him, to talk to Him, to read His Word, to read what others write about Him, I know that I’m okay and will eventually get it without inciting His wrath and fury.

But how does that help me?  It doesn’t.  What am I doing?  I’m pushing away the One who gave me life, who created me in His image, who sent His Son to die for me.  The One who loves me and will never stop loving me.  Why am I doing this?  Selfishness.  I have other things to do.  I’m busy.  I’m too tried.  I want to do something else right now.  Fear.  I don’t want to hear what He has to tell me.  What will He make me do?  What will He make me give up this time?  Will He make me leave my comfort zone again?  I really hate that.  Doubt.  Am I really hearing from Him?  IS this Him, or is it just me?  Am I making this whole thing up?  Is this really what God wants me to do?  Am I really hearing from Him, or am I just so impatient that I come up with my own answers?

So why bother?  But yet He’s there for me.  I still see His face, kind, loving, smiling. Looking at me; waiting for me to return.  God is a God of action, yet while He’s making blind men see and lame men walk, He’s sitting back, patiently waiting for me.

It’s my time to return.  Again.  And again. And again.  A constant cycle, one that tends to repeat in my life.  Yet, I know he’s not angry.  He’s not mad.  He’s just smiling at me, waiting for me to return again.

Dear Lord Jesus, I’m sorry for making you wait for me.  Again.  I’m sorry for continuing this cycle.  I know that you love me, and that you will never leave me, and I am so very thankful for that.  Your patience is unending, you love never fails. Grant me the mercy that you so graciously bestow, and allow me to walk by your side again.  I love you.

Amen.

In elementary school each year (3rd – 5th grade) we had a Cultural Arts Day.  We chose, ahead of time, activities we wanted to do from a list given us, and then on the day we followed a schedule leading us to each one.  One year, I think it was fifth grade, I chose mime.  I don’t know why, I guess it just sounded good at the time.  I remember sitting at a table in the library, listening to the presenter tell us to start with a wall.  We had to envision a wall that we would soon “press our hands against.”  This would help us with the mime.

I chose a brick wall.  I still remember how it looked, its’ color, its’ size.  It sticks with me to this day.

A brick wall.  Walls can be good things, surrounding us, keeping us sheltered from the elements.  They give us our privacy.  But at times walls can be bad.  They’re used as barriers that we form to keep us from getting hurt, from showing who we really are, from having to put ourselves out there and getting embarrassed.

Walls, though, are not that difficult to break down.  All we need are the right tools.  But a brick wall?  I think those are harder than any wall that’s formed with 2x4s and drywall.  They’re solid.  They’re thick.  They’re strong.  They’re sturdy.

To me, a brick wall resembles a barrier that has been up for a long time, becoming stronger as time goes on.  For me, my wall comes up when my heart doesn’t want to get too close to a situation.  In the books I’ve been reading I’ve come across the word, “victim.”  That’s what I don’t want to be.  That’s the reason my wall pops up.  I have dealt with “victims” my whole life; people who play the victim whether they really are one or not.  People who wallow in it and want people to feel bad for them whether they realize they are doing this or not.  I don’t want to be like that.  I don’t want people to feel bad for me.  I don’t want people to think that I’m reaching out because I want to be a victim.  That’s what I’ve been fighting all this time.

I read in Lysa Terkeurst’s book, Made to Crave, a quote she borrowed from Ruth Graham: “Either we can be victimized and become victims, or we can be victimized and rise above it.”  To rise above is what I always strive for.  I don’t want to wallow in my victimizations, and therefore I don’t.  But do I go too far?  When questions are asked in Bible studies there are some I don’t respond to.  I think, “If I answer this I’ll look like a victim.  I don’t want to come across that way, so I’ll just keep quiet.”  It’s at those times when I see my brick wall pop up in front of me.  And it doesn’t just pop up.  It grows.  It moves from side to side as I try to see around it.  My wall is strong.  It keeps me on my side.

I even have a hard time writing this type of post because I feel that I shouldn’t be writing so many “weakness” posts.  That thought keeps me from typing, even though it’s what God has put on my heart.  I fight it.  I don’t want to be seen as a victim.

I’m also reading Renee Swope’s “A Confident Heart,” and taking the online Bible study that goes along with it.  That’s really where this post stemmed from.  It didn’t mention being a victim, but as I read the chapter that’s what kept coming to my mind.  What Renee talked about was how we tend to hide behind the “I’m fine” quote when someone asks us how we’re doing.  Our response, whether it’s true or not, is, “I’m fine.”  It’s our barrier.  A barrier that keeps us from telling someone how we really are doing; it keeps us from letting someone in.

In this chapter Renee writes, “It can be hard to let people know how we’re really doing.  We don’t want to be high maintenance, right?”  She then goes on to say, “It’s embarrassing for people to see our flaws and failures, so we work hard to look like we’re doing fine from a distance.”

But, wait a minute!  To me, if I tell people how I’m really doing, I’m just acting like another victim, one who isn’t “rising above it.”  I’m not embarrassed, I just don’t want people to roll their eyes and think, “Oh, she’s like that.”

Oh, but Renee doesn’t stop there.  She goes on to say, “Pretending [that we’re fine] leads to hiding and isolation.  What we need is someone who will pursue us and accept us even though we’re flawed.”  And do you think she stops there?  Of course not.  She starts her next paragraph with, “Eventually, though, we find ourselves in the shadows of doubt, convinced that we aren’t worth knowing or pursuing.”

Wow.  Those last little “tidbits” sound  more like wallowing in victimization than just talking it out with someone else, letting someone else in on how you’re really doing.  Victimization of my own making.  Is that what I’m doing?  By putting up my brick wall, the wall I created for myself in a twenty minute activity in fifth grade, I’m becoming a victim, the one thing I keep fighting against.

So now what do I do?  Well, now I need to reevaluate what I read in these two books.  I have victimized my own self, and therefore to rise above it I need to let someone else in.  I need to focus first of all on God.  He is the one who will accept me, flaw and all, without question.  Then, with His help, I can begin to let someone else in.  This will be a long, hard process for me, but I know it’s possible with His help.

Have you found yourself in a similar place?  Putting up barriers because you don’t want someone to find out how you’re really doing, thinking that they will just roll their eyes at you because you’re too needy?  Too weak?  Find your own answers in your walk.  Seek out Christian books that can guide you along the way, and be sure to always seek Him.  He’ll guide you.

Lord God, I just thank You for leading me to a truth I was missing all this time.  I know I won’t change overnight, and that this will be a long process for me.  Give me strength to put into action what You have taught me, and guide me along the way.  Lord God, I love You, and without You I am nothing.

Matthew 22:1-14: The Parable of the Wedding Banquet

Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son.  He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet tell them to come, but they refused to come.
    “Then he sent some more servants and said, ‘Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready.  Come to the wedding banquet.’
    “But they paid no attention and went off – one to his field, another to his business.  The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them.  The king was enraged.  He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.
    “Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come.  Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’  So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.
   “But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes.  ‘Friend,’ he asked, ‘how did you get in here without wedding clothes?’  The man was speechless.
    “Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’
    “For many are invited, but few are chosen.”

This parable is not new to me, but I must admit it took me a while to really understand it. I had a hard time getting past the literal and delving into the allegorical.  But one Sunday morning this was being preached at church, and I had my own, “Aha!” moment.  I got it.  I could see how it all fit together, and how it emulated God’s Kingdom.  All good.

Except, unfortunately, for one thing.  If you’ve read my previous posts, then you know that I am a very visual person.  Everything comes to me in pictures, and I relate what I learn to those pictures.  So here I am, sitting in church, “watching” the scene play out.  My mind is going back and forth from the king’s banquet hall to our King’s pearly gates, lining everything up and how they fit together.  Everything. 

But I can’t help getting stuck with the one vision I have at the king’s banquet.  There is a very long table, many people sitting, eating, enjoying themselves at this celebration.  At the very end of the table, in a chair on the right side looking up toward the king (I’m not kidding about how visual I am!), sits a man.  He looks to be in his late thirties to early forties, he has a short, respectable hair cut, a little scruff on his chin, and his clothes, though not dressy, are nicely put together (modern times).  To me he looks like a nice guy who just got carried along with the crowd of people, none of his peers close by.  I don’t know his background, but I can tell he’s done the right thing his entire life.  He’s good.

Then the king notices him and approaches him.  “’Friend,’ he asks, ‘how did you get in here without wedding clothes?’” (v.12)  I watch as the man looks up at the king, embarrassed.  All he was doing was sitting there, quietly eating his meal.  He hadn’t expected to attend a banquet that night, but he was pulled in.  An awkward silence passes between the man and the king, as the story tells us, “The man was speechless.” (v.12)

And then the king gives the orders to have him thrown out.  He doesn’t quietly and politely ask him to leave, he doesn’t offer him a set of wedding clothes from his abundant closets.  He tells his attendants, “’Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’” (v.13)

My heart goes out to that man.  He was quiet, he wasn’t causing a ruckus.  He didn’t sit in a place of honor; in fact, he sat at the lowest place possible.  And yet, because of his clothes, he was singled out and thrown out of the house like a dog who had just ruined Christmas dinner.  I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.

And to top it all off?  Jesus ends his parable with, “For many are invited, but few are chosen.”  Well, what the heck?  What’s the point of inviting him only to embarrass him by having him kicked out in such a harsh manner?  What’s the point of it all?  I don’t understand!  And, really?  He was a good guy!  Jesus said earlier that anyone on the street was to be invited, both good and bad.  This guy didn’t fall into the “bad” category, so why was he singled out?  It’s not right.  It’s not fair.

I got the message, but that part still baffled me.  A couple of nights ago I was reading my Bible, and, of course, one of my readings happened to be Matthew 22.  Back to the parable of the wedding banquet.  Okay.  I was bound and determined to figure it out once and for all (no, I didn’t look deeper into this at that time) what the end of this parable meant.  So I read, finished up verse fourteen which ends the parable, and still didn’t get it.  Great.  The same exact scene played out in my mind with the same outcome, the same, “Huh?”

Finally I decided I had to figure this out, so when my husband walked into the bedroom where I had been reading I talked to him about it - I typically am able to figure things out when I talk to him, whether he leads me to the answer or I figure it out just by talking it out.  I explained my dilemma to him – and of course he laughed at just how visual I was about it – and then he explained to me that he just never accepted Christ.  Plain and simple.  Oops.  Am I the only one who missed that?  Probably.  But there it was.  He never, in all his life, accepted Christ.  The wedding clothes come when you put on Christ, when you are covered with His blood.  I started singing a line from a song we would sing at my old church when adults were being baptized, “You have put on Christ.  In Him you have been baptized.  Alleluia, Alleluia.”

So I finally got it.  Maybe this came up the Sunday it was being preached, but I had missed it.  But I told my husband - since I was still trying to fight for this guy – that maybe no one actually talked to him about it.  Maybe he never knew Christ because no one took the time to tell him.  And there was “Aha!” moment number two.  Or was it three?  Anyway, writing all this out in my notebook I realized that there are going to be many people waiting their turn to get into heaven, but many of them will be turned away because they missed one step.  They never accepted Jesus.  In John 14:6-7a, Jesus says, “I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.  If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well.”

“No one comes to the Father except through me.”  That’s it in a nutshell.  We must accept Christ in order to be accepted into the Kingdom of heaven.  But what if that person didn’t know?  That’s when it came to me.  It’s our job to tell them.  Yes, this is something that Christians are told time and time again, and new Christians are one of the first to want to rush out and save the world, but do we really understand the call?  Some, yes.  Others, maybe not.  Why was my heart hurting so much for that one man who was thrown out of the banquet?  Because I personally need to take that step.  I admit I like to hide behind my writing, and my words do come out much easier when I put them down on paper (or type them on a computer).  The written word is a gift that God has given to me, and I can use it to share His Gospel.  BUT…that doesn’t excuse me from sharing it by word of mouth when I’m out and about.  I can’t use the “I’m shy” excuse.  It may be true (more than I’d care to admit), but it’s not an excuse.  It’s actually selfish.  I can’t say, “They would never listen to me,” “They’ll just roll their eyes and walk away,” or even, “So-and-so would be able to do this much easier.   I’ll just let them save the world.”  Yeah, that’s not what we’re called to do.  We’re not called to shirk our duties as Christians.  We need to immerse ourselves into God’s work.  Regardless of where we’re called.  We are all called to different avenues; we just need to find out where those are, what those are.  We can all make a difference when the day of judgment comes if we all do our part now.

And it doesn’t matter if the person is “good” or “bad.”  A bad person can accept Christ and turn his or her life completely around.  A good person can do so much good, but if they don’t except Jesus as their Lord and Savior, they don’t have a chance.  Being good (like the man in my visualization) doesn’t give you a free ticket into heaven.  Isaiah tells us that “All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.” (Isaiah 64:6a)  So then how are we to become clean?  By accepting Christ and being “washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

“And he said, ‘These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.  Therefore, they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.  Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst.  The sun will not beat upon them, nor any scorching heat.  For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water.  And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’” (Revelation 7:14-17, emphasis mine)  Doesn’t that sound amazing?  Some of us are already guaranteed this.  Now we need to help others take the step that will also give them this gift of eternal life.

Last night in my small group a question in the book we’re reading asked, “Why does your tomorrow depend on today?”  Well, what would happen if we left everything for another day?  What if we knew where we were supposed to be, and by being there we could bring more people to Him, but instead we find something “more important” to do, or we’re too tired, or we just don’t feel like it.  How are we ever going to win a war just sitting back doing nothing?  We can read the Bible ‘til we’re blue in the face (and we should always be in His word), but we have to put it all into action somehow.

So, how are you going to make a difference?  Will you be able to stand before God and know that you helped even just one person pass through His gates into His Kingdom?  Will God look at you and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant?”  I know I want that.  I want to stand there and watch people entering, not being kicked out.

Lord Jesus, I understand now that it is my responsibility, my duty, as a Christian to help grow your Kingdom.  When I sit idly by I’m doing nothing.  Please help me to remember that I am saved through the blood of the Lamb, and I need to share that gift with others.  Lord Jesus, thank You.

I have a confession to make.  It’s really hard to say, but bear with me.  I’m. Not. Perfect.  Pfew!  I’m glad I got that off my chest.  Seriously though, I’m not.  I’m not perfect.  I’m not perfect.  No matter how many times I tell my kids I am (and they just laugh at me) I’m not perfect.  Sorry, that was really just for me, not you.  I have to remind myself that I’m not.  I may have been born in the perfect image of God, but that doesn’t mean I am perfect.  Though it would be nice.   Oh the things I could do if that were true.  I would never have to worry about misunderstanding and doing the wrong thing in front of others – because, well, when you’re perfect everything you do is perfect.  I could take my cello out of the case, sit down, and start playing a beautiful cello concerto instead of accidentally knocking my bridge off and putting it back in its case to wait until I can get it fixed.  Oh, and I would never have broken a guitar string on not one, but two guitars that now remain unplayable until, again, I get them fixed.  I would be given a piece of music and could sing it perfectly the first time on pitch (okay, some people really do have perfect pitch, but I don’t).  Or I could write that novel I want to write in no time flat and have no editing problems.  Because I’d be perfect.

But I’m not perfect. And of course the Bible is very happy to remind me of that.  I can’t read through the book of Proverbs completely without saying, “whoops” more than once.  Here are a few of my “oh so favorites”:

“A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy man keeps a secret” (Pr 11:13).  For the record, I’m not part of the gossiping crowd.  But it doesn’t mean I never was.  In fact, when I was in high school I prided myself on being the “gossip queen,” knowing peoples business, though not really airing it beyond my small group of friends.  And just a few years ago I was in a group where it was gossip or sit quietly because it was the only thing I could really think of to talk about; other people’s business.  That is no longer me.  I have left that arena far behind and I’m better for it.

“When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom” (Pr 11:2).  Pride.  Now there’s a problem I have.  A big one, really.  I have prayed for humility, and I’m working on it, but I still have my issues with it.  I was actually talking with my pastor after church one Sunday and he had told me how I’ve become more humble.  Oops.  Guess my pride really shone through there before that day.  Of course that was a great compliment, especially since I knew it was something to work on and continued to remind myself.  I continue to remind myself of that.  Pride hurts me.  When it shines through I make the wrong choices, and then I regret them later.  But they’re done, and there’s nothing more I can do.  It has even kept me from doing things or saying things that I wanted because it would stand between me and whatever I was facing.  For one thing, if I hear someone recount a story of something that happened to them, I’ll make sure not to have it happen to me because, well, I’d just be copying them and it wouldn’t be real.  Seriously?  Why couldn’t it happen?  Especially if it was a “God thing?”  A lot of people have experiences that are similar, and sometimes we need to read or hear about someone else’s experience to realize that that’s what happening to us right now.

Yes, I have a pride issue, but I’m working on it.  I’m asking God to help me become more humble.

“A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control” (Pr 29:11).  I’m a fool.  Guilty as charged.  I have had a terrible temper since I was at least a teenager, and there are times when it likes to surface, though I’m happy to announce that it doesn’t show as often as it once had.  I loved my dad, but growing up we didn’t always see eye-to-eye.  It was a habit of ours to have what I would call “swearing fights.”  Who could out-swear the other, and who would win the fight?  Usually I won, but that’s another story.  His temper burned as much as mine, and I don’t think anyone really wanted to be in the house when it was going on.  Oh, my poor mother.  Our relationship got better once I went off to college, and our spats were far and few between, and not as much cursing.

And then I got married.  I love my husband, but there are times when he can drive me completely insane.  I’ve yelled at him, I’ve said terrible things, and I’ve threatened to walk out.  I’ve even used the “D” word a few times.  Can I just say, “Thank you, Lord,” for keeping us together, and now when we fight my temper is a lot more tame.  Sure, I’ll slam cabinet doors, the drawer in the fridge (yeah, a piece of that is broken now), or throw a wet sponge at him in anger, but I no longer threaten to walk out or to divorce him.  I’ve learned a few years ago that I can’t do stuff like that.  The rest of it I still need to work on.  I’m hoping for a day when I can find a better solution to my temper and actually put it into action.   I still have a ways to go with that.  Like I said, I’m not perfect.  But I’m not proud of my temper.  It only serves to hurt me, my husband, and my children.  Thankfully my children see us make up, and we do talk to them about our fights.

“A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult” (Pr 12:16).  I would have to say that this in a way goes along with my temper issues.  Again, something to work on.

Hmm…I should go back into Proverbs and see if Solomon wrote anything on forgetfulness.  The Lord was so great to guide me through this post today.  I said I wasn’t perfect, right?  Today is Tuesday.  All day I kept thinking that it was Monday, though I knew I was going to my mom’s house tonight for my sister’s birthday party.  Tuesday.  The day my daughter has orchestra.  She plays a quarter-size cello and therefore needs to be driven to and from school.  Since he has to go to work anyway my husband drops her off at school for 7:30 in the morning, and then I pick her up around 3:10 in the afternoon.  My cell phone rang at 3:41.  I had completely forgotten to pick her up!  I said I’d be “right there” – it takes about ten to fifteen minutes to get there from home - but when I hung up I realized that my sons were already making their way home on the bus.  Someone would have to be there for them.  My mind reeled.  I could talk to my neighbor about getting the boys while I went to pick up my daughter – she has been a saint when things happen and I need someone to help – or I could, oh, I don’t know.  Then I remembered that my husband had called to tell me he was on his way home.  How long ago was that?  I picked up the phone and called him.  He was at the end of the highway near the town her school is in.  It would take him about the same amount of time (if not less) to get to her school than it would take for me, and this way I could stay home and wait.  Oh, God is good.  See?  I’M NOT PERFECT.  And here’s God telling me that.  So I should stop the tears and just apologize to my daughter for making her wait so long.  Interesting that this would all happen while I’m writing this post.  Thanks for driving the point home, God.

No one is perfect.  This is a world of imperfect people.  We all have our follies, our “fool’s way,” but it doesn’t mean we can’t work at being better.  When Solomon wrote his “woe to you” speeches, he didn’t leave it at that.  He told us how we should be. 

“A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy man keeps a secret.”  Be trustworthy.

“When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”  Be humble.

“A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.”  Exhibit self-control.

“A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult.”  Don’t take a fools words personally.

If we look to how we should act, we can correct how we do act.  Then we’ll no longer be fools.  I know what I have to work on.  Seek for yourself what areas you need help with, and ask God for His perfect help.

Dear Lord, I pray that you help us all with those places that are not pleasing to you.  Point them out to us, and show us how to change.  We want to do all things for You.