I don’t make them, because I don’t keep them. A resolution is a promise to yourself, and I hate disappointing anyone including myself. So the following list is NOT a list of resolutions, just some things I need to do:
1. Walk or swim everyday to prepare myself to be able to do all I want to do when Bruce and I go to Zambia in April. (My doctor says you can improve your fitness and energy level in eight weeks.)
2. Lose weight. (The doctor says up to 20 pounds. I’m aiming for at least 10.)
3. Finish my book by the end of March so I can spend April getting ready for the trip. (And I don’t want any of the several dozen--maybe 300 or so--people who read Non-Prophet Murders to die waiting to read Murder Intelligently Designed.)
4. I finally have a daily devotional book that I can get excited about. Each day has a quote from C.S. Lewis or one of the many writers from whom he drew inspiration. The page for each day includes space to add my own thoughts. I intend to find a scripture to go with each one and post the result on this blog.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Stop Waiting
In the late sixties, it became fashionable for young Christians, of which I was one, to “wait upon the Lord,” as per the Psalm. The popular interpretation was that one should ignore any personal desire and wait for direction from God, seemingly a “Thy will not mine” attitude but it in reality a bow to eastern religions that label all needs and desires evil.
Today people say “let go and let God,” an admirable sentiment if it means letting go of pain, worry, hatred, etc.,” but not so if “letting go” means abdicating.
One possible outcome of abdication is wasteful but harmless: The abdicator watches as life runs down hill like spilled water to the lowest possible level—no goals, no ambitions, no dreams—a simple, howbeit harmless existence. Like the servant who buried his talent, these abdicators lead fearful, unfruitful lives.
Another likely possibility: Someone attached to the abdicator by love or family or both is forced to make life decisions for that person. The resulting stress is harmful to both parties and to the relationship.
The most onerous consequence: An opportunistic or psychotic person makes decisions for the abdicator, convincing him or her that those decisions are the will of God and that his or her compliance is a mark of righteousness. The result is pure evil.
I have come to believe that “waiting on the Lord” does not mean standing still but “waiting” in the sense of “serving”—doing the works that God created us to do; allowing Him to steer a moving vehicle, not forcing Him to push a dead one.
Only when we know and voice our desires can we ask that God’s will be done and recognize and accept when He gives us something better.
Today people say “let go and let God,” an admirable sentiment if it means letting go of pain, worry, hatred, etc.,” but not so if “letting go” means abdicating.
One possible outcome of abdication is wasteful but harmless: The abdicator watches as life runs down hill like spilled water to the lowest possible level—no goals, no ambitions, no dreams—a simple, howbeit harmless existence. Like the servant who buried his talent, these abdicators lead fearful, unfruitful lives.
Another likely possibility: Someone attached to the abdicator by love or family or both is forced to make life decisions for that person. The resulting stress is harmful to both parties and to the relationship.
The most onerous consequence: An opportunistic or psychotic person makes decisions for the abdicator, convincing him or her that those decisions are the will of God and that his or her compliance is a mark of righteousness. The result is pure evil.
I have come to believe that “waiting on the Lord” does not mean standing still but “waiting” in the sense of “serving”—doing the works that God created us to do; allowing Him to steer a moving vehicle, not forcing Him to push a dead one.
Only when we know and voice our desires can we ask that God’s will be done and recognize and accept when He gives us something better.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
A Living Sacrifice
I do not know what I would do,
if I were asked to die for you.
I pray that I would gladly die,
for the hope that lies ahead.
But sadly I confess it’s true,
it’s harder far to live for you,
and be a living sacrifice,
than to lie among the dead.
So Father, help me gladly stay
upon the straight and narrow way.
And change my heart that daily sighs,
“I’d rather die instead.”
if I were asked to die for you.
I pray that I would gladly die,
for the hope that lies ahead.
But sadly I confess it’s true,
it’s harder far to live for you,
and be a living sacrifice,
than to lie among the dead.
So Father, help me gladly stay
upon the straight and narrow way.
And change my heart that daily sighs,
“I’d rather die instead.”
Monday, December 5, 2011
Cat Scratch Fever
Yes, it is a real disease and I have it. Have I mentioned we are taking care of a cat, who came to us as a flea-bitten kitten just before Halloween? Well, we are. His name is Punkin' and he bites and scratches. I have the characteristic papule on my wrist and a very painful area in my arm pit that could be a swollen lymph node, and the pain is slowly moving down my arm. The internet says that cases usually resolve without treatment after a month or so, but this hurts! So I saw my doctor and am on an antibiotic.
So far, Punkin’ has broken a cheap candleholder, unplugged my printer twice, left scratches on my hands and thighs, climbed my kitchen door and forced me to cover the screen, drunk out of the toilet and trained me to keep the lid down, peed on my white bed spread and on my husband's fresh laundry and cost me nearly $100 for an office visit and antibiotic. But he also has stare-offs with squirrels outside our glass door. He, for reasons known only to cats, careens from room to room sliding crazily on our hardwood floors, fights his reflection, makes toys out of everything from ball points to lint and cuddles and purrs "like a kitten."
We will give him back to our daughter when she moves into her new apartment, and we will miss him, but gladly.
So far, Punkin’ has broken a cheap candleholder, unplugged my printer twice, left scratches on my hands and thighs, climbed my kitchen door and forced me to cover the screen, drunk out of the toilet and trained me to keep the lid down, peed on my white bed spread and on my husband's fresh laundry and cost me nearly $100 for an office visit and antibiotic. But he also has stare-offs with squirrels outside our glass door. He, for reasons known only to cats, careens from room to room sliding crazily on our hardwood floors, fights his reflection, makes toys out of everything from ball points to lint and cuddles and purrs "like a kitten."
We will give him back to our daughter when she moves into her new apartment, and we will miss him, but gladly.
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