After sweating up a storm at the gym tonight, I walked out into the crisp air with numbers swirling in my head. After all, I had just been fed a healthy stream of them on the treadmill from which I had finally escaped. In addition to treadmill numbers, I somehow began contemplating my age and wondered if I could ever trick myself into thinking I wasn't getting older. Of course, I immediately told myself I know better. We humans are all too good at tracking numbers.
As I was mulling this over, I suddenly realized how much I'm driven by, worried about, and just plain dominated by numbers in my life. Numbers like my age and my weight. Numbers like how much money I make, how much I want to make, and how much everything costs these days. Numbers like how many days are left in the school year, how many minutes I have until bedtime or how many calories I should consume in a day. Numbers like how many miles I should run, how many hours I should sleep or how many times a year I should see the dentist. Numbers like how many friends I have, how many phone calls I get, or how many posts I get on Facebook. Numbers like how many miles are on my car, how many new blemishes I can see on my face or how many trips I can take this year.
To be honest, I'm a bit sick of numbers. I know God created them. I know they're pretty cool and can be used for many great purposes (I don't want to offend math people or cause Albert Einstein to roll over in his grave). I understand that God created numbers and that they are not evil. In fact, I loved math in school and have nothing against numbers or the whole system of mathematics.
Yet, I long for the day when numbers of all kinds will worry me no longer. Will that ever happen while in this earthly, fallen body of mine? I doubt it, but I know that whatever heaven is, it will be glorious and wonderful and a place where numbers won't cause me stress. That sounds great right about now.
The Psalmist says, "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (Psalm 90:12). God wants us to steward our time and be aware of the passing moments. I know He doesn't want me to live in ignorant oblivion regarding the various aspects of my life. Yet, God also teaches us to cast our worries on Him because He cares about us (1Peter 5:7). There is a balance there that I need, but right now I feel more of a need to let go of all the counting and numbering that I'm doing these days.
Lord, give me a healthy freedom from numbers. Show me what that means, and help me keep my eyes on You.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
I Know Who Holds My Hand
It's scary to write what's on my heart sometimes. Somehow, we humans are trained to put up strong exteriors. Somehow, even when people say it's okay to be real and to cry, it still doesn't seem like it is. Somehow, the walls that we so swiftly construct are easier to build than they are to tear down.
That's why, sometimes, I don't like what I write in my blog nearly as much as what I write in my personal journal. When I take up a pen to let my thoughts flow onto my journal, I have no filter. I let my thoughts and the deepest crevices of my heart bubble to the surface. Sometimes, I barely know what I'm writing as I do, but when I look back, I am moved.
Tonight might be different because tonight, my heart is overwhelmed by the strongest bittersweet emotion. Time passes and each day closes as quickly as it began and I feel caught in an endless cycle of sameness. But when I see the world around me, nothing looks familiar. Everything is morphing and I recognize that my own sameness has fooled me. Suddenly, nothing seems certain. I feel so alone.
In the midst of it, I wonder if my years have taught me anything because I feel vulnerable and like I'm a little kid all over again. I hate feeling vulnerable. I like feeling strong. I despise feeling out of control. I want the reins. I want to set the course. I want to be in charge.
And then, I realize that I must be clay in God's hands. This fighting and struggling and bickering and fearing won't do. It won't make the unfamiliar known or slow the cycle of the days. Nothing I try in my own strength will calm the flood of days that are passing swiftly before me. Nothing but surrender.
I know Who holds my hand. Christ Jesus is His name. He is enough. He is all I need. He can surround me with His love. He will never leave me. He will never abandon me. He will see me through.
I know Who holds my hand and that is all that matters.
That's why, sometimes, I don't like what I write in my blog nearly as much as what I write in my personal journal. When I take up a pen to let my thoughts flow onto my journal, I have no filter. I let my thoughts and the deepest crevices of my heart bubble to the surface. Sometimes, I barely know what I'm writing as I do, but when I look back, I am moved.
Tonight might be different because tonight, my heart is overwhelmed by the strongest bittersweet emotion. Time passes and each day closes as quickly as it began and I feel caught in an endless cycle of sameness. But when I see the world around me, nothing looks familiar. Everything is morphing and I recognize that my own sameness has fooled me. Suddenly, nothing seems certain. I feel so alone.
In the midst of it, I wonder if my years have taught me anything because I feel vulnerable and like I'm a little kid all over again. I hate feeling vulnerable. I like feeling strong. I despise feeling out of control. I want the reins. I want to set the course. I want to be in charge.
And then, I realize that I must be clay in God's hands. This fighting and struggling and bickering and fearing won't do. It won't make the unfamiliar known or slow the cycle of the days. Nothing I try in my own strength will calm the flood of days that are passing swiftly before me. Nothing but surrender.
I know Who holds my hand. Christ Jesus is His name. He is enough. He is all I need. He can surround me with His love. He will never leave me. He will never abandon me. He will see me through.
I know Who holds my hand and that is all that matters.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The Joy of the Lord
The temperature is frigid. That might be an understatement. Just possibly. School was canceled today and a two-hour delay is already planned for the morning. My fingers are laced in cold even now as I type.
I have been contemplating joy. Consider Nehemiah 8:10b: "Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah asks the Israelites with him to not grieve. Though they had seen tremendously hard times and did not know the future, Nehemiah exhorts them to lay aside what pains their hearts. Yet, knowing that humans cannot simply ignore their grief, he goes on to state that "the joy of the Lord is your strength."
The joy of the Lord. Joy is something that is lacking in the raw human heart. There is no natural joy but rather a natural pessimism, fear, and longing that resides in our souls. The happiness we feel upon the arrival of good times lasts but briefly and we are once again left with the grim reality of broken earthly life. It is a sad fact that what ails us gets more attention than those other aspects in life that might actually be in line. We feel the prick of every shard of glass that has broken away from what we know should be.
Yet, there is joy that is supernatural. There is joy offered to us through the grace of God. That joy is not only illuminating and refreshing, it is strengthening as well. "The joy of the Lord is your strength." Anyone who has experienced grief knows how exhausting it is. Pain and heartache saps us of energy, motivation, and the will to live well. We shrivel under such sorrow. Praise God, then, for the joy that He offers and for the strength that it bestows!
Are you in a state of exhaustion or grief? Turn to the Lord. Surrender to Him. Lay your griefs at His feet and watch His joy strengthen your life. You need not wait until times are good. He is asking you to give Him your heart now and to allow His joy to encompass you. His joy will imbue you with life and vitality once again. May this truth permeate you and me today!
I have been contemplating joy. Consider Nehemiah 8:10b: "Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah asks the Israelites with him to not grieve. Though they had seen tremendously hard times and did not know the future, Nehemiah exhorts them to lay aside what pains their hearts. Yet, knowing that humans cannot simply ignore their grief, he goes on to state that "the joy of the Lord is your strength."
The joy of the Lord. Joy is something that is lacking in the raw human heart. There is no natural joy but rather a natural pessimism, fear, and longing that resides in our souls. The happiness we feel upon the arrival of good times lasts but briefly and we are once again left with the grim reality of broken earthly life. It is a sad fact that what ails us gets more attention than those other aspects in life that might actually be in line. We feel the prick of every shard of glass that has broken away from what we know should be.
Yet, there is joy that is supernatural. There is joy offered to us through the grace of God. That joy is not only illuminating and refreshing, it is strengthening as well. "The joy of the Lord is your strength." Anyone who has experienced grief knows how exhausting it is. Pain and heartache saps us of energy, motivation, and the will to live well. We shrivel under such sorrow. Praise God, then, for the joy that He offers and for the strength that it bestows!
Are you in a state of exhaustion or grief? Turn to the Lord. Surrender to Him. Lay your griefs at His feet and watch His joy strengthen your life. You need not wait until times are good. He is asking you to give Him your heart now and to allow His joy to encompass you. His joy will imbue you with life and vitality once again. May this truth permeate you and me today!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Dynamic Life
When I was a first-year teacher, I cried. A lot. Not necessarily in front of my students. In fact, I usually was able to bar the tears from falling until my planning period when the tears would explode like a sudden avalanche. Sometimes I would cry in the privacy of my classroom. Sometimes I would seek out the comfort of the drama teacher who has been a close friend and mentor of mine ever since.
I would cry about nearly anything that didn't go right. For anyone who has taught for very long, you know how often things don't go quite right in this profession. After all, we work with tons of humans, and for middle school teachers, adolescent humans nonetheless. It's a volatile business, this job, and it takes a tough mind. I was far too sensitive and far too unaware that most of the students' misbehavior had nothing to do with their thoughts or reactions to me at all. It was just their unfiltered, immature reactions to whatever was chapping them that day.
It's interesting to me how certain memories are emblazoned in my mind with very specific details. For example, I can remember the outfit I was wearing when I had one of these breakdowns that first year. Perhaps I recall the gold, white and black skirt and black blouse I was sporting because one of the assistant principals had found me in my vulnerable state and had to sit with me and chat about what was going on. I have distinct visions of looking down at my necklace and noticing my clothing because I was ashamed to be so weak. I'm not sure why, but I remember those articles of clothing and the painful gold shoes I was wearing like it were yesterday.
By the grace of God, I made it through that first year and am now in my fifth year of teaching. These days, I feel like I am turning into a boot-camp instructor. I am tough on my students and tough-minded about my approach in the classroom. Yet, at the same time, I feel that I am more compassionate and more able to see the true needs of students than I used to be. I am not bragging. That would be ridiculous. I have so much yet to learn about this crazy ride called teaching.
Instead, I am simply gratified by seeing the growth I've undergone in these last few years. It's similar to the growth I see in students that I teach. I love watching them come in as kids in 6th grade and mature into teenagers approaching adulthood in 8th grade. They grow in every way possible---physically, mentally, emotionally, etc. There is rarely any aspect of their lives that is not affected within those three years. It is incredible to observe.
As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment tonight, I was contemplating how dynamic life is. It is ever-changing and is always affording new opportunities. God has been gracious to me and has loved me through so many stages in my life. He has bolstered me in rough times and has kept by me in good times. He has helped me to change from an overwhelmed, naive teacher to the slightly-more-confident teacher I am today. I feel full of gratitude and of praise to Him for His hand in this and in all areas of my life. I am thankful for His gift of dynamic life.
I would cry about nearly anything that didn't go right. For anyone who has taught for very long, you know how often things don't go quite right in this profession. After all, we work with tons of humans, and for middle school teachers, adolescent humans nonetheless. It's a volatile business, this job, and it takes a tough mind. I was far too sensitive and far too unaware that most of the students' misbehavior had nothing to do with their thoughts or reactions to me at all. It was just their unfiltered, immature reactions to whatever was chapping them that day.
It's interesting to me how certain memories are emblazoned in my mind with very specific details. For example, I can remember the outfit I was wearing when I had one of these breakdowns that first year. Perhaps I recall the gold, white and black skirt and black blouse I was sporting because one of the assistant principals had found me in my vulnerable state and had to sit with me and chat about what was going on. I have distinct visions of looking down at my necklace and noticing my clothing because I was ashamed to be so weak. I'm not sure why, but I remember those articles of clothing and the painful gold shoes I was wearing like it were yesterday.
By the grace of God, I made it through that first year and am now in my fifth year of teaching. These days, I feel like I am turning into a boot-camp instructor. I am tough on my students and tough-minded about my approach in the classroom. Yet, at the same time, I feel that I am more compassionate and more able to see the true needs of students than I used to be. I am not bragging. That would be ridiculous. I have so much yet to learn about this crazy ride called teaching.
Instead, I am simply gratified by seeing the growth I've undergone in these last few years. It's similar to the growth I see in students that I teach. I love watching them come in as kids in 6th grade and mature into teenagers approaching adulthood in 8th grade. They grow in every way possible---physically, mentally, emotionally, etc. There is rarely any aspect of their lives that is not affected within those three years. It is incredible to observe.
As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment tonight, I was contemplating how dynamic life is. It is ever-changing and is always affording new opportunities. God has been gracious to me and has loved me through so many stages in my life. He has bolstered me in rough times and has kept by me in good times. He has helped me to change from an overwhelmed, naive teacher to the slightly-more-confident teacher I am today. I feel full of gratitude and of praise to Him for His hand in this and in all areas of my life. I am thankful for His gift of dynamic life.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Woodhead: Small Town Boy. Big Time Success.
My Grandpa has always been a fantastic story teller. He can retell even the most mundane happenings in the most charming and hilarious way. So, a few years ago, when he began telling stories about a phenomenal athlete at the local North Platte, NE high school, I didn't over-think it. Sure, Grandpa made this kid sound like Superman himself. But then, Grandpa had that way of making everything in life fun, exhilarating, and interesting. So, there was no need to get too hyper about this reported high school Hercules.
Yet, the stories about this kid kept coming. I quickly realized that my Grandpa truly believed this guy was unusual. He wasn't wrong. Thanks to Grandpa's foresight, the name Danny Woodhead became a household name for me years before it did for football-crazed fans around the country.
I am speaking of the New England Patriot's budding star, Danny Woodhead. That Mr. Woodhead is the same Mr. Woodhead that my Grandpa would proclaim as a sensation when he was playing his heart out in high school. That Mr. Woodhead is the small-town-raised, small-sized machine of a man that my Grandpa often spoke of with admiration and an awestruck shake of his head.
My brother recently brought my attention to the fact that Danny had not only made it into the NFL but that he was becoming downright popular as well. Wow. My Grandpa saw him play many times. He is now one of the wonder stories of the NFL. How fun is that?
Here is an article on Danny Woodhead done by ESPN that my brother shared with me a few days ago. If you want to see a colorful (and a bit exaggerated in spots) view of his North Platte, NE upbringing, it's an entertaining read. I just sort of think my Grandpa should get some credit. He knew this guy rocked from the start.
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/playoffs/2010/columns/story?page=hotread18/DannyWoodhead
Yet, the stories about this kid kept coming. I quickly realized that my Grandpa truly believed this guy was unusual. He wasn't wrong. Thanks to Grandpa's foresight, the name Danny Woodhead became a household name for me years before it did for football-crazed fans around the country.
I am speaking of the New England Patriot's budding star, Danny Woodhead. That Mr. Woodhead is the same Mr. Woodhead that my Grandpa would proclaim as a sensation when he was playing his heart out in high school. That Mr. Woodhead is the small-town-raised, small-sized machine of a man that my Grandpa often spoke of with admiration and an awestruck shake of his head.
My brother recently brought my attention to the fact that Danny had not only made it into the NFL but that he was becoming downright popular as well. Wow. My Grandpa saw him play many times. He is now one of the wonder stories of the NFL. How fun is that?
Here is an article on Danny Woodhead done by ESPN that my brother shared with me a few days ago. If you want to see a colorful (and a bit exaggerated in spots) view of his North Platte, NE upbringing, it's an entertaining read. I just sort of think my Grandpa should get some credit. He knew this guy rocked from the start.
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/playoffs/2010/columns/story?page=hotread18/DannyWoodhead
Saturday, January 8, 2011
It Can all Change so Quickly
I am sitting in Barnes and Noble, sipping green tea and gazing out at the parking lot. The weather this morning was glorious. I went for a jog in the warm sun and then sat on my porch to read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens while soaking in as many rays as the January sun would allow. It was almost too hot for me, and I had to break to find some sunscreen. I slathered it on my face and the classic summery smell gave me visions of being in a different place at a different time.
I'm glad that I took advantage of the unusual warmth while I could. Winter storms and severely cold temperatures are supposed to invade tomorrow, and the gathering gray and low-hanging clouds that I spy in the sky give warning that such predictions are true. Perhaps a snow day is right around the corner.
It can all change so quickly. Weather. Life. Scary and comforting too. Scary because present bliss may be snatched away in a moment. Comforting because oppressive misery might quickly be relieved.
No matter what, Jesus never changes. One of the most comforting verses for me this last year was Hebrews 13:8: "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." I love that truth so much that I've been working on crafting a song based on it. Knowing that Jesus is never inconstant is an understanding that wraps my heart in peace.
The clouds have dimmed the sunlight even more since I first began typing. That's okay. I've had my sun for the day. Let the snow fall.
I'm glad that I took advantage of the unusual warmth while I could. Winter storms and severely cold temperatures are supposed to invade tomorrow, and the gathering gray and low-hanging clouds that I spy in the sky give warning that such predictions are true. Perhaps a snow day is right around the corner.
It can all change so quickly. Weather. Life. Scary and comforting too. Scary because present bliss may be snatched away in a moment. Comforting because oppressive misery might quickly be relieved.
No matter what, Jesus never changes. One of the most comforting verses for me this last year was Hebrews 13:8: "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." I love that truth so much that I've been working on crafting a song based on it. Knowing that Jesus is never inconstant is an understanding that wraps my heart in peace.
The clouds have dimmed the sunlight even more since I first began typing. That's okay. I've had my sun for the day. Let the snow fall.
Monday, January 3, 2011
No Unimportant Person
It's been awhile since I've blogged. In attempting to add another entry, I may find myself overly ambitious. Lately, I've been reading C.S. Lewis, a true mastermind who had the incredible ability to make deep and perplexing matters seem logical and straight forward. I was impacted by a thought of his recently. Writing about it will not be a mindless task.
My good friend, whom I have now known for over 20 years, gave me The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis for Christmas. It is a compilation of short addresses that C.S. Lewis had given at various points in his life. In perhaps his most famous address, "The Weight of Glory", Lewis speaks to the deep and unmet longings that all men experience in the fallen world and suggests how those longings point to the hope and reality of Heaven.
Toward the end of the piece, Lewis talks about how believers ought to seriously consider the plight of the souls they interact with every day. He says that though there may be danger of a believer dwelling too much on his own glorified life to come after death, "...it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour" (Lewis, pg. 45, Harper Collins Publishers).
In other words, every person whom we encounter is an eternal soul that is on a trajectory headed toward a glorious overflowing of life or a dreadful and unspeakable anguish of death upon the end of his/her temporal life. Indeed, there are no unimportant or insignificant people. Lewis begs his audience to remember that "the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare" (Lewis 45).
It is such strong language, but it conveys his point well. As humans, we are drawn to apathy. We struggle to keep the strong scent of urgency fresh on the nostrils of our spiritual senses. It reminds me of Ephesians 5:16 which urges us to "make the most of every opportunity". Apathy must be barred from my life and yours if we are to be effective ambassadors for the kingdom of God.
This theme is timely with the entrance of the New Year as well. I've heard a few sermons of late that have reinforced this idea of seizing the day and recognizing the opportunities directly in our path. As Toby Mac croons in his song "City on our Knees": "If you gotta start somewhere, why not here? If you gotta start sometime, why not now?"
My prayer for you and for me is that we will take note of even the most uninteresting person we meet. Let us not lose sight of the most important mission God has given us on earth. Let us be diligent fishers of men.
My good friend, whom I have now known for over 20 years, gave me The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis for Christmas. It is a compilation of short addresses that C.S. Lewis had given at various points in his life. In perhaps his most famous address, "The Weight of Glory", Lewis speaks to the deep and unmet longings that all men experience in the fallen world and suggests how those longings point to the hope and reality of Heaven.
Toward the end of the piece, Lewis talks about how believers ought to seriously consider the plight of the souls they interact with every day. He says that though there may be danger of a believer dwelling too much on his own glorified life to come after death, "...it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour" (Lewis, pg. 45, Harper Collins Publishers).
In other words, every person whom we encounter is an eternal soul that is on a trajectory headed toward a glorious overflowing of life or a dreadful and unspeakable anguish of death upon the end of his/her temporal life. Indeed, there are no unimportant or insignificant people. Lewis begs his audience to remember that "the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare" (Lewis 45).
It is such strong language, but it conveys his point well. As humans, we are drawn to apathy. We struggle to keep the strong scent of urgency fresh on the nostrils of our spiritual senses. It reminds me of Ephesians 5:16 which urges us to "make the most of every opportunity". Apathy must be barred from my life and yours if we are to be effective ambassadors for the kingdom of God.
This theme is timely with the entrance of the New Year as well. I've heard a few sermons of late that have reinforced this idea of seizing the day and recognizing the opportunities directly in our path. As Toby Mac croons in his song "City on our Knees": "If you gotta start somewhere, why not here? If you gotta start sometime, why not now?"
My prayer for you and for me is that we will take note of even the most uninteresting person we meet. Let us not lose sight of the most important mission God has given us on earth. Let us be diligent fishers of men.
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