2019 A.D.

Here it is, on New Year's Eve, and I am home, in pajamas, not quite alone, but functionally so as I tidy up the aftermath of Saturday's Christmas celebration with my in-laws and my husband does whatever he's doing upstairs. Our 12 year old daughter is the only one with plans tonight, and I imagine she is having a grand time with friends, watching movies, eating, and staying up well past her typical bedtime. My aim is to start the new year with a calm, peaceful living room that will look very much like it did before Saturday's festivities. My aim is also to go to bed shortly after midnight, if I make it another hour. The mess tells me I still have an hour to go, so I will probably still be up to see the new year in. Whether I am or not, the 2019 will arrive. It doesn't need pomp and circumstance, it just needs time. With it, though, is a new year in which to declare Christ as Lord. Having just celebrated his birth a week ago, it is time to remember His lordship as we ring in the 2019th year of the reign of our Lord, Jesus Christ. I do not think it coincidental that we mark the passing of time with reference to the birth of Christ, though I think we often forget why we number our years as we do. It is easy to forget, on nights like this that are quiet and dark and cold - it's -7* outside currently - that we are in the midst of Christmastide, of celebrating the hope that has come and is coming again! As we wait in anticipation of the new year, may we remember that we serve a King who already sits on the throne, whose image is stamped on our souls, whose light shines in the darkness, who is our hope and our peace. Tonight, we celebrate, as people around the world declare that Jesus Christ is Lord with the ringing in of a new year. Tomorrow, we continue looking forward to the day when every tongue confesses that He is Lord. Happy New Year!

New Year's Eve

Of old and new

Of gold and blue

The clock ticks on 

To midnight. 

It feels darker, starker,

But the countdown

Leads to day. 

This eve is like Advent:

A time of waiting

For the hope of something new 

To arrive. 

But advent has gone

And Hope has come

And we are but awaiting 

His name on this eve of 

the 8th day of Christmas.

2019 years it has been

Since He was named

Lord 

of the ages

of Lords

And of Kings

Anno Domini

His sovereignty declared

With each exploding star

In the midnight sky

With each cheer of goodwill

Each twelve stroked kiss

They celebrate 

The past and future 

Coronation of the King

With the ringing in of this

New Year of our Lord. 

On New Year's Eve, Anno Domini, Advent, and Christmastide.

The Battle of Advent

I wrote this poem on the afternoon of December 22nd, while pondering the busyness of the Advent season, even while trying to keep the holiday frenzy at bay. I have yet to figure out how to flip the paradigm from busy Advent and "restful" (i.e. tuckered-out) Christmas, to restful Advent and celebratory Christmas.

I feel like it is a battle to hold the clamor of commercialism at bay, to actually Advent well. A friend and I visited recently and discussed what it would be like to Advent well, to actually sit in the watchful, waiting dark. We bounced around ideas like not decorating until Christmas, or not lighting any lights until Christmas Eve. But the battle rages within me; on the one hand, I love having my decorations up throughout the season and the idea of putting up my decorations on Christmas Eve sounds daunting. On the other hand, it is hard to imagine that the Light has come when we've been enjoying the lights for a month.

And then I think thoughts like... but what if we didn't turn on the Christmas lights or light the candles until Christmas Eve? How would that change the anticipatory feel of Advent? For one, it might magnify the light of the Advent wreath. Instead of it being the only bank of candles we don't light, it would be the only ones we do light, and incrementally at that. The Advent wreath could take center stage on our table, and we can burn the candles during dinner, lighting one more each week. The brightness of the Christ candle would shine forth, then, in a new way on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. It's a thought, with more to follow, I'm sure.

Fast forward a few hours after this poem. We came home from dinner out. I had left a bag by the front door with a bowl to return to my friend, in case she stopped by to pick it up while we were out. Sure enough, the bowl was gone, and in its place was a movie she had borrowed, a wrapped gift, and a book titled The Christmas Plains by Joseph Bottum. She suggested I read chapter 3, especially as it pertained to our discussion about the disappearance of Advent. In the essay, Bottum talks about the consequences of ever-elongated Christmas seasons, beginning now before Thanksgiving. The exponential anticipation of holiday hype leading up to Christmas can't possibly be fulfilled with gifts from the store and a turkey dinner; as the "Advent" season gets brighter and louder and sparklier and busier, Christmas Day becomes anticlimactic. All the magic we'd hoped for is spent on electricity and batteries to power toys that barely distract us in a few days' time. "This is what Advent, rightly kept, would halt --" Bottum says, "the thing, in fact, Advent is designed to prevent. Through all the preparatory readings, through all the genealogical Jesse trees, the somber candles on the wreaths, the vigils, and the hymns, Advent keeps Christmas on Christmas Day: a fulfillment, a perfection and completion, of what had gone before."

It's worth fighting for Advent. It's worth waiting in the dark for the sun to rise, instead of flipping on the lights and pretending it isn't dark outside. If we want to march triumphantly, to journey with the wise men, from Christmas to Epiphany, we must make sure we haven't been led astray during Advent. It's a battle, but I think it's one worth fighting.

Advent is the Battleground

Advent is the battleground

in which we fight to rest.

We hurry to wait

so we can rush fast

the feast of the Nativity

all the while feasting

on cakes and cookies 

and candies and choirs, 

because the artificial twinkle 

lights have swallowed up

the very real dark,

and we have marched

in the triumph

before the battle's begun.

And that is how we lost,

not marching,

but being marched

through the fields in which

we should be fighting,

led without resistance

by those who declare it

a time for rejoicing. 

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven

has come near. 

On the loss of Advent in our culture and the triumphal march of commercialism

Bearing the Light: Saint Lucia Day

Today is Saint Lucia Day. In general, we don't celebrate saint days, but this one... this one feels... different. Maybe it's the Scandinavian heritage passed from my husband to my daughter. Maybe it is the darkest of the dark setting in as we approach the solstice. Maybe it is the beauty of taking what we have and carrying it forth in the light of Christ to share his love with others. Whatever it is, over the past few years this has become a day that we love.

As I revisited the stories about Saint Lucia, I was pondering her name, derived from lux, lucis, meaning "light". It is fitting for her day to be filled with light, not because she is the light, but because she bears the Light before others.



One whose name is also derived from lux means "light bearer" and yet in stark contrast does not bear the light, but seeks to destroy the light. Lucifer was intended to bear the light, but rejected the role he was supposed to play.



Lucia also rejected the role she was supposed to play, dedicating her life to Christ instead of to the dictates of contemporary culture. One is a rejection of Christ for culture in order to gain glory, the other is a rejection of culture for Christ, for His glory. I think there is more to ponder here.



Both Lucia and Lucifer share a common linguistic root, and with that playing through my head this Advent season, a time of dark and light, anticipating life and death, these are my thoughts (in draft)...

Luci(fer)

Whose name means light

but bears the light

Is not the light

But steps with light, quick feet

to bring light

and hope

and abundance

to those whose is waning

like the afternoon sun

like the lifeless walls 

of the tombs they indwell

dead inside

and outside

dark outside

and inside

but light

and life!

survive.

Whose name bears light

But means the light 

To not be light

And uses light and heavy hands

To twist light

Into darkness

And lack

To steal rest from the weary

With sleepless nights 

And busy days

That trade life for death

Empty inside

And outside

Sepulchral outside 

And inside 

To overcome life

And light

But can’t. 

The Light... comes

and with it, Hope

and Abundance

Grace and Peace

and Joy and Love

and death

and life.

And light

Shines. 

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. 

On Saint Lucia and Lucifer and Christ, who is the Light of the world. 

On Striving and Sabbath

Sometimes I wake up 

with plans 

for all I will accomplish, 

and what I am given

is a body 

in need of rest. 

All is gift.

O joyous reminders 

to stop working in 

my own strength,

to let the One 

who began the work

work in me. 

All of my strivings, 

all that comes from me

is all for naught, 

if I do not rest in Thee. 

On pondering RA, rest, my strivings, and the Sabbath.

Ladies in Waiting

Tomorrow begins Advent. This morning I lit incense instead of the Christ candle in the front hall. I pulled out the advent devotional we are reading as a church and read this:

It was fitting, because just last night, after an afternoon making liturgical bracelets and discussing Sabbath with a dear friend, I was pondering what it is to imagine the kingdom, even as we wait for the king. As thoughts swirled around in my head, I was drawn to Penelope waiting for Odysseus to return as the Church waits for Christ’s return as a bride waits for her bridegroom. Though not yet polished, these are my thoughts from last night... 

Ladies in Waiting 

Which of these ladies is waiting for me?

Asks the Bridegroom on his long journey home. 

Only the Bride keeps her lamp well lit.

Only the Bride holds her suitors at bay. 

The rest say they're waiting, 

but they're eating and drinking. 

They sing and they dance and they sleep

while she waits.

They stay in my kingdom

but it's not their home. 

I built it for her, for my Bride, for my Love,

A refuge for her, 

a shadow and promise of what is to come,

of a future secured,

a life that is shared.

So she waits

and hopes

and dreams

about what it will be like to share the fullness of this kingdom

with me, when I return,

when I remove the suitors

who are squandering the gifts

I left for her to enjoy.

Her ladies in waiting tell her I am long gone,

that I never really loved her,

or that I died, and there's no returning from the dead. 

But they are not waiting,

they're just biding their time. 

No hope for the future,

they hunger for now.

They eat the seeds instead of waiting for fruit,

settling for winter instead of longing for spring.

They use the oil instead of lighting the lamp. 

"Look how my skin glows!"

They say in the dark.  

"Can we use your oil, too?" They ask.

"What do you have for us?"

"Join us," they say, "make yourself pretty, too!

The Bridegroom will like you better that way!

(if he comes)"

But she does not listen

for she knows I am coming

and beauty is faithfulness

not skin that might glisten.

So she keeps her lamp lit

and her eyes on the horizon,

weaving and waiting,

waiting, and weaving,

not a funeral shroud, or a garment for mourning

but wedding clothes she will wear in the morning,

when the lamp is not needed to get through the night,

when the day breaks forth in glorious light

and we are home, together. 

Penelope, the Church, the Wise Virgins, and Advent

Remembering to Rest

I remembered to rest today. Over Thanksgiving break I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I really rested. There is a never ending list of things to do and my attention gets pulled in a myriad of directions. I just keep going and going, collapsing at night with the list of things I didn't accomplish before I ran out of steam running through my head, only to wake up and do it again the next day. The rhythms of work and rest I inhabited last year have been lost in the sea of green, the ordinary weeks that make up my summers of freedom. When the school year began this year, my rhythms of work resumed, but the rest did not, and this realization crashed down upon me as I crashed under the weight of the head cold my husband shared with me. I didn't have time to be sick over my break! But if not on my break, when? I don't ever have time to be sick, because I don't ever have time. My weeks have become chapters of marginless pages, filled to the edges with things, good things, but things; not space. I find myself living without margin and needing to remember to rest.

So today, I remembered to rest. I went home, pulled out a new book, and read and prayed and rested. And as I did, the memory of margin welled up inside with the following (first draft of a) poem:

I FIND PEACE

In the margins
I take note
I speak with the author 
About what He wrote 
The margin gives space
For breath and for pause
For questions to ponder
About the next clause
A margin’s blank face
Is a spot of release
Is a break from relentless 
Words that don’t cease
Some margins are empty
None, though, are unfilled 
None are unneeded
Though thoughts may be stilled
Some margins are full of
Dear thoughts that are mine
Dear words of others
That return me to Thine
All margins provide a
Place for reflection
Place for the quiet, 
For thoughtful collection
Even the smallest of margins
Evokes small moments of rest
Evokes deeper connection
At the Author’s behest
Average margins are oft overlooked 
And provide space for living
And frames for each story
Of taking and giving
Wide margins reveal
Choices well made
Choices that keep our hearts
Tuned and well played 
In the margin, I find peace
Even among the words I am reading
Even amidst the life I am leading
The margin provides space for my heart to keep beating. 

Christ the King Sunday and Anticipating Advent

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the day we celebrate that Christ is Lord of the whole year, of all time, of every thing, of all that is, was, and ever will be. Though we declare that Christ is Lord with each check that we write and each passing year* it is all too easy to forget Whom we serve and in Whose kingdom we live. Though a relatively recent addition to the church calendar, it is fitting that we celebrate Christ the King Sunday the week before we enter the season of Advent, which is nearly upon us. It is a season of waiting, as we wait with Mary for the birth of her Son, and as we wait with the Church for the return of the King.

What if Advent is the season in which we learn how to wait, practicing the discipline of waiting each year so that when we are in a season of waiting in our lives, we know what to do?

What if the liturgical calendar is less about structure and observance, and more about shaping and molding the church into the bride she should be?

What if liturgy is less about what we do in the church and more about what the church does in us?

The liturgical year provides the rhythms of ebb and flow in which we learn to live faithfully throughout the various seasons encountered over the course of life. As the liturgical year follows the life of Christ, we are immersed in the stories of Christ for each season. These stories bring who we are in that year, in that season, into the light of the ever faithful protagonist, Christ, who is the Son of God, fully God and yet fully man, whose model we follow as we seek to become fully human, whose Spirit intercedes for us and indwells us, and who has provided a restored relationship with the Father through His sacrifice. Advent is the time of waiting, for we have been saved, and are still being saved. He has come, and yet is coming. And so, we wait. We wait with Mary as she carries the Christ child in her womb, waiting for her, and our, Savior to be born. We look back to the season of Pentecost and remember God's Spirit, given as an assurance of things to come. We look forward to Christmas and anticipate the coming of Christ, even as we wait for Him to come again. We ponder the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in this time of already and not yet, as we ponder Mary, indwelt by the Christ child as she waited in the time when he had already come, and not yet been born.

Lord, teach us to be vigilant during this time of waiting. Give us eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts that do not grow dull and cold. Let your light shine in us, and shine your light in the darkness, as we light the candles this season, remembering that you are the Light of the World, the Light no darkness has overcome. Reveal in us the darkness that would try to obscure your light, and create in us clean hearts, humbled before you as our Lord and King. May we love with your love as we wait with your patience, praying that Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven, in this time that we anticipate the celebration of the One who rules in heaven, come to earth. Amen.

Things I'm Pondering:

• The Holy Spirit given at Pentecost and the work of the Spirit in the Church during Ordinary Time carried through Advent with the anticipation of the return of the King.  
• The red of Pentecost and the green of Ordinary Time after Pentecost carried through in the colors of the holly and berries, and other red / green Christmastide symbolism.
• The tongues of fire of Pentecost and the light of the Advent candles / Christ candle.
• The Spirit of Christ residing within the body of Christ, the church, between Pentecost and the second coming of Christ and Christ residing within the body of Mary during Advent.    

* The year 2018, in which we currently reside, is so numbered for being 2,018 years since the birth of Christ. Distinguishing between BC and AD makes this clearer, as BC abbreviates "before Christ" and AD abbreviates anno domini, which translates "in the year of our Lord" and draws a clear distinction between time keeping in reference to human kings and time keeping in reference to our eternal King.

New Years Thoughts.... 2018

Today is Holy Name Day, celebrated in the church as the day Jesus was circumcised and given his name, 8 days after birth, according to Jewish law. It is also New Years Day in the western calendar and, as such, is always a time of reflection for me. This year the two celebration days have me pondering Revelation 2, Dan Allender, and the story God is writing for my life.

Revelation 2:17

Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.

In "To Be Told," Dan Allender talks about our time right now being between names. We are given a name as infants, and we will be given a new name at the end of our lives. What are we in-between?

When I was born, my parents named me Elizabeth, a Hebrew name that means "consecrated to God." This is part of who I am. My parents, in the choice of my name, declared me sacred and set apart for God.

God knows what He is doing with my life. It is I who am discovering His leading and purpose along the way. So where is He taking me this year? What chapter will He write for 2018?

As I ponder my identity, my existence between two names, I am drawn to this description of who I am. I am...

1. God worshipping
2. Idolatry discerning
3. Earth keeping
4. Beauty creating
5. Justice seeking
6. Creation enjoying
7. Servant working
8. Community building
9. Image reflecting
10. Order discovering

I look forward to seeing how these descriptions are fleshed out over the course of the year and beyond.

I was asked to share my testimony at church this morning...

I remember as a teenager being asked to share my testimony and thinking that I wished my testimony were more “interesting.”

I grew up in a Christian home where my parents not only read the Bible, but believed and lived it daily. I came to know Christ at a very young age. I attended Christian schools from kindergarten all the way through college. People talk about their rebellious teenage years and college party days; mine were filled with mission trips, studying God's word, and preparing for a lifetime of serving Him.

I didn't realize what a blessing my testimony was. I didn't think my story was very “interesting.” Then again, I thought my story was about me.

You see, God didn't save me from a life of drugs and alcohol, or a broken home, or the circumstances that surrounded me. When God saved me, He saved me from what was rooted deep within – and that was sin. And it didn't matter what my story was before, because from the moment I was saved, God gave me a new story with a different ending. My story isn't about me. My LIFE isn't about me.

So what I want to share with you today is that this, the Bible, is my story. It tells everything about me, from who I was, to who I am, to where my eternity lies. It outlines the struggles I will face on earth and how I am to respond to them. This is what scripture says,

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because

you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” - James 1:2-3

As some of you know, this last year was one of the most difficult I have been through. We had a lot of change, some personal decisions that were made, and I spent the better part of the year working toward a goal that, in the end, didn't yield the results I expected. It was a hard year. But something happened in the midst of it all – God used the trials of this year to reveal some of the sin that had hold of my heart. And through the trials, He chiseled away at that sin until it no longer had hold of me. As a result, I look more like Him today than I did a year ago, and THAT I consider pure joy and worth every one of those trials!

Mine is a story of faithfulness, not because I have been faithful, but because He has taken my story and replaced it with one of HIS faithfulness. I have seen His faithfulness in my life, I have seen it this year, and I have seen it in the story He gave me (the Bible).

I used to wish my story were more “interesting.” But last night my grandmother passed away and as I reflected on her life, I praise God for the faithfulness He has provided my family for generations – Grandparents who loved and served Him, who taught their children to love and serve Him, who taught me to love and serve Him. I pray that I am faithful to teach my daughter to love and serve God as well. God, who is faithful to transform me from the inside out, to chisel away at the sin, revealing a heart that looks like His.  

The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games Trilogy Boxset by Suzanne Collins
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I read The Hunger Games Trilogy on my Kindle this weekend and tore through all 3 books in less than 48 hours. They were amazing! The story line is captivating and Suzanne Collins manages to hold my attention throughout the books, even as the plot and storyline change with each new book. While the books are definitely violent and even gory, they are surprisingly clean and free of vulgar language, which I appreciate.

I don't know exactly which genre to put these books into, but I'd put them somewhere between sci-fi and war/action, with quite a bit of coming of age thrown in. Whatever the genre, I definitely recommend them.

View all my reviews

The Children and the Ants

I've had a fable floating around in my head for a while, so I figured I'd write it down. =D

_______________________________________________________________

The Children and the Ants

In the corner of the school yard, some children were playing with ants. Some of the children were following the ants that left the anthill, stepping on them as they went out in search of food. A couple of the children saved stray ants by picking them up and playing with them. When the frightened ants bit them, however, the children squished the offenders and went off to save some more ants. The majority of the boys found great pleasure in stomping on the anthills and watching the ants scatter as their homes were destroyed. They would rebuild the hill overnight and the boys would have new targets for their capricious enthusiasm. There was one little boy set apart from the other children. He saw the anthills being destroyed by the other boys and had compassion on the ants. He tried to save as many of them as he could, but the disoriented ants hurried away from his grasp as fast as their tiny legs would carry them. The ants he did save were carried across the school yard to a corner of safety. Along the way they fought to get free from his hold, scurrying across his skin, biting him repeatedly. When he released them, hands stinging with pain, the ants began their trek back across the yard to help rebuild the hill.

The children returned home as the day drew to a close, and recounted their experiences to mostly disinterested parents. Some of the children didn't even mention the ants at recess, because they'd already forgotten about them. A few of the children complained about the ant bites they'd received and sought sympathy. Two of the boys asked their fathers for magnifying glasses. One claimed to want to get a better look at the ants, while the other asked how to use the glass to set the ants on fire. And one little boy asked his father for an ant farm, because the ants that had bitten him, that had been so eager to get away from him and back to the destruction that awaited them, desperately needed a new home.

Back in the school yard, the children continued to torment the ants, intentionally or under the guise of rescue. The girls still squished the ants that bit them, and two of the boys were armed with new magnifying glasses. The restructured anthills were still being trampled, and the ants were still scattering in the wake of destruction. Each day, though, one container of ants was saved from the torment of all they'd ever known and taken to live in a new ant farm, far from the reach of stomping feet. Though the boy desired to save all of the ants, they did not come freely to him. They bit him when he reached out, yet he suffered to rescue them, because his compassion for them was so strong. Each day he sought out more ants, never tiring in his work, even when it hurt, even when he was tired, even when the other children made fun of him.

How like ants we are in the hand of God! We take the abuse Satan hurls at us and cling to this anthill of a home, returning to it each time Christ rescues us from its shambles. We think we can rebuild it, when we don't even realize that it is no longer our home! When Christ removes us from the sin that entangles us, we fight against him, biting him, inflicting pain on him with our rejection. Yet he loves us and has compassion on us still, and pleads our case before the Father, seeking us out and saving us. And we, the little ants we are, puff out our chests and make demands on the one who saves us! We demand that he rebuild our broken anthills. We demand that he leave us to what we know. When he doesn't give in to our demands, we lash out and bite him. In his love, he holds us still, and carries us to safety, acting not out of what would cause him the least pain, but what would be in our best interests.

Lent

I have never before observed Lent, but this year I feel convicted. Not because it's Lent and I ought to sacrifice something, but because God is showing me some areas where I can improve by denying myself some of my habitual passtimes for some better ones.

SO.... I am actually observing Lent to some degree this year, and giving up my personal TV time (or Netflix / Hulu time, as the case really is) and Eliana is doing the same, though she has much less choice in the matter. =D I realized that we've fallen into a bad pattern where she watches TV and I feel free, so I hole up in another room, doing something else, in front of another computer watching TV. The TV isn't necessarily bad, but the pattern we've fallen into is.

I have so many opportunities during the day to spend time with Eliana, teaching her through activities and play, talking with her as we rise in the morning and walk throughout our day, as it were. So that's what we're doing instead of watching TV for a few weeks. And so far, it's been a really nice change. Yes, I want to know what's going on with "my" shows. But they will be there after Easter, and if they're not, well, will it really make a difference in the end? No. It is also a good chance for me to evaluate what I watch and whether those are shows I really want to spend my time following. Are they beneficial? Why do I watch them? I am looking forward to cutting out some of what I watch in the future and having more time to read. I'm also looking forward to doing things like listening to music or radio shows (like 'Says You') while I'm scrapbooking instead of watching shows while I do. So... I'm looking forward to a season of self control, of growing in my relationship with Eliana and of learning to use my time better. I die to self so very little these days, and it's something I want to practice, for my own sake, and for His glory.

On my list to read...

I've actually been reading again, which has been a refreshing deviation from my recent habit of the last year or so of playing computer games on the laptop until I'm tired enough to fall asleep. On the flight to Texas Christmas day I started reading one of Leif's books because I failed to bring one of my own. It was a YA Sci-fi novel called Zoe's Tale and was actually the fourth book of a series, following a trilogy. It was interesting, and I enjoyed it. So when we returned home, I started in on the first book in the series, Old Man's War. The trilogy was not so much meant for a young adult audience, and the language of the novel reflected that. Aside from the language, the book was captivating, though, and delightfully unlike any of the other sci-fi I've read in some respects. I liked that about it. The second book, The Ghost Brigade, was pretty good, too. I probably liked the final episode of the trilogy the best. It was sort of strange reading The Last Colony, having already read Zoe's Tale, but it was still very enjoyable and shed new light on both the universe and the characters.

Originally I wasn't a big fan of John Scalzi's writing, though as I kept reading, it grew on me. Now, I'm interested in reading more of his works, including the above, The Sagan Diary, a continuation of the Old Man's War series.

Leif says he'd be happy to buy it for me for my birthday (in September), but I think buying it for HIM for his birthday in May and then reading it before I give it to him is a much better idea. =D Mwaaa haa haa. Okay, maybe I won't do that. But I do want to read it.

The Repentant Heart

Just some sermon notes from today that I want to remember...

Satan is real and he is very good at his job. His job is three-fold:

1. Tempting us.
2. Lying to us.
3. Accusing us.

Satan tempts us and lies to us, and when we fall into the trap he sets and we sin, he points a finger at us and accuses us, telling us how awful we are. We are in a courtroom, and he is the prosecuting attorney, pointing out our wrongs before God, while we listen to all that we have done.

I John 2:1 - My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense - Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.

When Satan accuses us before the Father, and makes his case against us, Jesus steps up and defends us before God, stating that the penalty for that sin has already been paid, and the sin forgiven. He is our defender when Satan accuses, for He is the one who paid for our sin.

When we sin, we have four choices:

1. Deny the sin.
2. Cover up the sin. (Or at least try to)
3. Let the sin weigh on us until we are crushed by guilt.
4. Repent

Repentance is confessing the sin and turning away from it and turning back to God. It is a change of heart, a change of focus, and a change of path. It is resetting the compass so it points again to God, and following in the way we should go, admitting that we were headed in the wrong direction before. (That part wasn't actually in the sermon, but a picture that just popped into my head.)

When we repent, we must confess the sin before God, but we may also need to confess the sin to the person we sinned against, in order to restore the relationship. This is the more humbling act, but is part of turning back to God and returning to the right path.

When we do repent, we are blessed with several benefits:

1. We receive mercy instead of misery.

Proverbs 28:13 - He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.

Parents ought to show their children HOW to repent, both by instructing, and by repenting themselves, asking forgiveness when they sin. When children confess and demonstrate repentance, parents ought to treat their children with the same mercy God shows us, that they will learn the beauty of God's mercy and the importance of repentance, that repentance will be sweet to them.

2. We receive forgiveness instead of slavery.

When we are riddled with guilt, we become a slave. We hold onto our sins and they control us, controlling our thoughts. We become slaves to Satan's accusations, cowering before the judge's bench, pleading guilty. When we plead guilty, we in effect waive our rights to a defender and let the prosecuting attorney win. If, however, we stand before the judge and let Christ speak for us, we are forgiven and receive freedom. How much sweeter is forgiveness in Christ!

3. We receive refreshment instead of shame.

Acts 3:19 - Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.

When we accept the forgiveness that comes from Christ, our sins are wiped out and we are refreshed, knowing that He has borne our shame and we no longer have to.

I don't want to feel like this tomorrow....

Listening to Skillet right now...

"I don't want to feel like this tomorrow... I don't want to live like this today..."

Green Chocolate?

So my friend Jenny was asked to do a review of an environmentally responsible chocolate brand. I'm intrigued now - and there's the opportunity for free chocolate! Check out her blog (www.conscientiousconfusion.com) to see the review and enter the drawing!

Very funny, and pretty impressive!

So this Italian composer wrote a gibberish song that was supposed to sound like English, or at least what foreigners think English sounds like. Truth is, though, it does sound a lot like English! I was impressed and found it highly amusing. =D

See more funny videos and Music Videos at Today's Big Thing.

Very Interesting

It's long, but very interesting.

My Wish List of Books.... Griffin and Sabine

Today I am ordering some books in order to take advantage of some discounts I've accrued from Borders. As I am trying to find the "perfect" book to round out my discount in the most advantageous way for me, I am remembering some books that have been on my wish list for a long time. The "must have" books that are really just fun for me.

Nick Bantock's Griffin and Sabine series.

Griffin and Sabine

Sabine's Notebook

The Golden Mean

The Gryphon

Alexandria


The Morning Star

I believe that I will get The Morning Star and The Gryphon today, since Amazon has them bargain listed for $4 and $6. It's hard to beat that. The rest will just have to wait, but feel free to buy them for me if you want!!

Synesthesia...

From time to time, my thoughts return to the subject of synesthesia, and right now is one of those times. Ellie recently described a song as "the black and yellow one that dances and dances and dances..." which started me thinking again.

My mom and I have had several conversations about how we see different colors or patterns when we listen to music, and how we have colors associated with pain. It appears that Eliana does some of the same.

So yesterday I was telling Robert about the conversation with Eliana and he said he didn't quite get the color thing, as he has no color associations with things. So I went onto explain that some synesthetes "taste" certain words, or how some see different months as closer or further away. Without hesitation, Robert said, "Oh, yeah, my whole calendar is a lopsided oval." I laughed out loud. I have no idea how strong a role genetics play in synesthesia, even mild synesthesia, but there are 4 of us in 3 generations with it. =D

It also got me thinking about my calendar. I laughed at Robert and his oval calendar, and said I didn't have a spacial calendar like that. But I do... Mine is linear, with some color associations. It always starts at September and stretches out kind of at an angle from me toward the right. The months have color associations, though some are stronger than others, for sure. September is a dark, cloudy blue, July is a navy blue, June is more of a royal blue, as is January. December is a light, almost glittery, blue. March is kelly green, while November is brown, and October is orange.

Certain numbers have color associations for me, too. 1 is yellow, 2 is green, 3 is red, 5 is blue, 6 is blue, 7 is yellow, 8 is orange, and 0 is black. 4 is purplish.

My week sort of works like my year, though not exactly. It starts on Monday and stretches out in front of me through Sunday. With the year, it's ALWAYS in front of me (no matter what month we're actually in) and September is always closest to me. I can "zoom" in to the month we're actually in, but when I think of the calendar, September is always first. With my week, whatever day we're in is automatically right in front of me (or I am in it, however you want to say it) and the others are in line with it, in front of or behind me. There is only ever one week. It's not like thinking of next week means that there are days after Sunday. Sunday is always the last one. So today (Sunday), the entire week stretches out behind me. Then tomorrow it will sort of move right back through me and the entire thing will stretch out in front again. What is in front of me is "this" week. So, for me, today is Sunday. That means that "next" Sunday will be on December 6. A new week starts tomorrow, though, which means that tomorrow the 6th becomes "this" Sunday and "next" Sunday will be the 13th. I have thought of it this way for as long as I can remember, but never realized until today why I have always had a communication break down when it comes to "this" Sunday and "next" Sunday (or whatever day). Now I get it. Huh.

So... there you have it. I don't know exactly what you have, other than more evidence that I'm weird, but there you have it.