Category Archives: Me

I continue to explore the topic of Sabbath in my mind.

In the past, I have noted that observances of days are not required and that we are not to be bound by law, and left it at that.

I don’t deny any of that; but I have continued to consider that, though it is true, it may not the complete picture.

I have heard discussions that Jesus is our ultimate rest, and that the Sabbath is a symbol.

I don’t deny any of that either.

But as one who is constantly making plans bigger than her time and is prone to burning herself out, I consider that it is all of this and more. The Sabbath pre-dated any law-giving; pre-dated, even, the fall. And when the law was given, even then it was made clear that all were entitled to Sabbath rest–even animals. Rest is good, for all of God’s creation. And like a creature of any addiction, I say, “I can stop any time I want.” I can stop and rest, and “not do,” any old time I want.

Calling my own bluff discovers that I can’t. This needs to get done, that get done, I HAVE to do this. I have to do this.

And then I think of the Sabbath, of having the faith enough to live, “I don’t have to do anything. My Lord has called me to rest.”

More oft is quoted, “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” Less often is considered all that we can NOT through Him that watches over us.

I think we have a lot of contemporary messages telling us how we ought to pray. Some of us are more susceptible to certain messages than others. I guess I can be pretty susceptible to the ones that basically boil down to “stop whining.” The ones that say you are always supposed to be grateful in your prayers, and never really cry out, because God is a good God and you aren’t going through anything that isn’t a blessing. You have nothing to say to Him except “thank You.”

I have struggled with that, because to me that seems dishonest. To pray, “gee, thanks so much” when your heart feels like it’s being torn in a million pieces feels like politely telling your grandma thank you for the ugly uncomfortable sweater that you secretly hate. It may be polite, and it may be proper, but it is hiding what you really think and feel.

Adam and Eve hid.

God didn’t say, “Thanks for hiding; I really didn’t want to see that, yo.”

He said, “Where are you?”

He doesn’t want us to hide; He wants us to come to Him, even in our sin and shame and brokenness, and to be honest.

At one point, I found myself praying repeatedly, “God, I just don’t even know how or what to pray.”

Recently I found myself drawn to reading the Psalms, and I realized that was His answer. The majority of the psalms are prayers, and they’re full of things like “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” They’re full of people crying out to Him about they way they have been wronged by this world and the people in it. Full of people asking God to be near, asking why He isn’t near, asking for blessings, asking for deliverance, asking for vindication, asking for mercy.

And God didn’t say, “You’re not supposed to talk to Me like that! Eat your peas and carrots; they’re good for you.” He preserved those prayers for us. Those honest prayers that said, “My God, why are You doing this to me?”

He doesn’t want us coming to Him pretending that everything is okay and then trying to deal with our hurt and confusions ourselves, without Him. When we are hurt and confused is right when we should be going to Him, but often we can find ourselves not wanting to approach God until we can come to Him with the “right” attitude. Because God is good, so if you’re not being grateful, you’ve got an attitude problem, right? Get back in line!

God is good. That’s why we don’t have to hide from Him. That’s why we can call out to Him for mercy and love. That’s why we can bring our brokenness to Him. That’s why we don’t have to wait until we can make ourselves perfect enough to approach Him. That’s why we can call out to Him and say, “Where are You?”

Today I recognized a little of what Job felt.

No, I don’t mean the “woe is me, disaster has befallen me” part. I mean the part where Job says “I put my hand over my mouth.”

I decided to look at photography, and so I went on Flickr.

There is the greatness that inspires you to greatness, and there is greatness that says, “okay, you can be quiet now; the professionals have arrived.”

I desire to look for the sake of the first; I am afraid to look for sake of the second.

So often when I get into a slump of sorts, I find myself thinking that I have nothing worth saying, nothing worth showing, nothing worth sharing. Compared to what else is out there, the words that I find are pale and weak; the experiences shallow and with few facets, the things I create childish and unimaginative, the thoughts repetitive and irrelevant. I lift my hand over my mouth.

But while I think that it can be a very appropriate response in the face of the glory and splendor and unfathomable depths of God. . .I don’t think He meant us to live our lives in silence. I think His desire is that in Him we would also find the greatness that inspires to greatness; there is the careful reminder that He alone is The Greatness, and we are but imitators. . .but that He desires us to imitate. (Only let us not get so foolish as to think we’re the real deal.)

All the flowers are different in their beauty; I don’t wish to imitate anything I have seen this world as the one perfect ideal. But I do wish I could rise to doing something–or somethings–well. The well we recognize when we hear notes ring true and strong and clear; the well we see, when something is crafted with great precision; the well of beautiful proportions, which we recognize without even being able to identify; the well of refined skill as opposed to the careless action. The well that appears effortless precisely because so much effort has been exerted.

I want it; it alludes me.