Thursday, May 20, 2010


Dot. See the dot. Look around the dot. See the space. What color is the space? White? I'm white... well, half. Half sounds like calf. The Israelites worshiped golden calves. Is that where the term, "Holy Cow" comes from? It seems silly that they would make something and worship it. I have a schedule. I made it. I stick to it. Am I as silly as the Israelites? I only have a certain amount of time. I should be careful where I spend it. 24 hours a day, 60 minutes an hour. No rollover minutes. I can't seem to get my dog to roll over. She's too oblong. She sleeps on her side, with her feet all jumbled together. It makes her easier to hog tie. Why do people tie the feet of their pigs together? Does it make them easier to carry? They weigh hundreds of pounds, wouldn't it be easier to make them walk instead of tying their feet together to carry them? I'm sure there are answers out there for all these questions. Just like I learned on Monday why we have whole grain. I couldn't imagine a half grain, but I didn't know about the shell. I like shellfish. The Hebrews missed out. They weren't kosher. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was a sanitation issue. I think they eat the junk in the water. God didn't want His people eating animals that ate junk or that were scavengers. He just wanted them to eat the ones that ate grass or made a fresh kill. It was his way of setting them apart. (Maybe also for sanitation reasons.) He set them apart so that they could be a part of His will for all men to know Him and to come to a saving knowledge of the truth. All men. No exceptions. All. Period. Dot.


I need to re-evaluate my friendships. There's a reason I don't trust feelings. There are many reasons. Those reasons are called friends. I'm not saying that I have bad friends. I have good friends. I have great friends. But the Bible says this in Luke 14:12-14
Then He also said to him who invited Him, "When you give a dinner or a supper, do not ask your friends, your brothers, your relatives, nor rich neighbors, lest they also invite you back, and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you; for you shall be repaid at the resurrection of the just."

Why am I friends with my friends? Do they make me feel good? What do I want from them? Am I only friends with them because I'd be lonely otherwise? Am I only friends with them because of what I could get?

This is the struggle inside me. Am I loved? If I am loved, is it because I'm important to a common cause? Do people only love me because of what I would or could do for them? Are they just using me? Of course, I ask the same questions of myself. Am I just using them? If anyone does read this, please refrain from giving a quick word of affirmation. I'm not writing this to ask for quick easy comments that tell me I matter. I'm not crying as I write this, my emotions are well under my control. I don't want you to worry for me. I'm just trying to grasp a concept and I do not feel I have yet taken a hold of it. As far as feelings go, I do feel used quite regularly. I feel popular because people want things from me. I do enjoy helping people. Putting my hands to work helps me not focus on myself. But people ask me how I'm doing, and my quick response is fine. I always answer fine or good because at that moment, I'm okay. I haven't thought about how I'm really doing. I'm not making sense. This isn't a complete thought. If you are lost or bored, just skip to the end. Hopefully, I'll figure it out by then and give a summery. I need this rambling sometimes to process. It takes several minutes of silence for me to open up. I once had a friend who was upset with me because she shared with me and I hardly ever talked about me. She accused me of things that weren't true. She just didn't know this about me. I don't think I did either. I know I'm not perfect. I catch myself comparing myself to others a lot. I bring this to God as if it had any merit and complain. I'm a sinner. Of course I know God's answer. "It rains on the just and unjust. Is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with my own things?" I complain about what's fair and it's my turn and I have no grounds except that I really am selfish. I have not because I asked amiss so that I may spend it on my own lusts. Why can't I be happy with salvation? Isn't that enough? It should be. It is. I do matter. I do. I matter to the God of this universe so much that He died for me so that I could live. He sent His Holy Spirit to live within me and He prays for me to the Father constantly. Even now. I don't doubt my salvation, but I'm working it out with fear and trembling. I am clay in the potters hand and He is reshaping me as it seems good to Him. I do and don't need friends. I don't need them for salvation. God is my salvation. He's my all in all. I do need them to remind me of that fact. I need them to let me down. I need them to mess up. I need them to teach me patience and forgiveness. Each one is doing what seems right to him or her. I would not / could not ask a friend to choose to please me over what he or she thought was right. That would be wrong. I need to realize that I'm not number one on anyone's priority list. I'm not even number two or in the top ten. I shouldn't need to be. I don't need to be. I need to be last. I need to be okay with being last. I'm too important to me. I need to be a servant to all. A servant has no rights and is only given what he needs to serve. So my ego took a hit, but the fact that I could feel my ego taking a hit means that I still got one. I wish I could get rid of it. Do you think I could sell it on eBay? I don't know about you, but feeling sorry for myself always makes me tired. I should really stop. (And don't go feeling sorry for me either. I don't need encouragement in the wrong direction. If you really want to help, pray for me without telling me.)

Summary I feel that people only like me for what I can do for them. But I know God loves me because He died for me and there is nothing that I did for Him or could do for Him that would be worth the price He paid. I am a sinner, and I don't deserve to live. I asked to be a servant in my Father's house, but He has made me a son. I need to shed my ego (pride) and live a life of praise that I am forgiven and not feel sorry for myself. Comparing my life to the lives of others is not helping my relationship with Christ. Please pray for me.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

You may not want to read this.

She keeps her eyes closed because he told her. She feels the cool air rush past her face. Her arms harvest goosebumps in anticipation. She can't control her breathing. She takes a couple steps forward, her feet sink in the wet sand. The cold water washes up over her feet. It tickles. "Just a little farther," she hears him whisper. She can feel his hands on her hips to guide her. She can feel every finger through her dress. Another step. She wiggles her toes in the sand. Her big toe finds a shell; flat, smooth. The water is now up to her knees. She bends down to touch the water and the incoming succession of waves kiss her fingertips. The scent of the sea swirls in her head and the chatter of the waves calms her nerves. He told her he had a surprise. She feels her excitement caught up in her throat and her smile is permanently chisled into her face. Her cheeks start to hurt, but she can't stop. "Stop." His whisper is a song in itself. His breath, a warm breeze in her ear. She stands still. Her feet sink into the sand. She feels it covering the tops of her feet. The hem of her dress is wet and the waves paste it to her legs. She waits. Her will battles within her. She wants to look. She wants to see what the surprise is. It's perfect. It's better than anything she ever asked for. It has to be. But she can't open her eyes. Not until he says so. If she peeks, maybe she would be disappointed. Maybe he wouldn't give it to her. She has to wait until he says, "Look." His hands wrap around her stomach and she hugs his forearms. She presses her back against his chest and she can feel his face next to hers. His mouth is close to her ear and she listens intently for that command. She imagine the sound of his lips parting. She waits.

Second Class Please

I don't know how to write. It's as if I'd been crushed under a car and it has been removed. However, as painful as the car was, now the fresh moving air hurts as it blows over my wounded body. I feel exposed. Vulnerable.

I've been accused of a lot of things. I think most of them are true.

I do build a wall between me and women.
I don't know when to come out from behind it. (I do know when I shouldn't sometimes.)
I do treat myself as a second class citizen. (I'm not convinced that I shouldn't)
I don't believe I deserve to be happy. (That doesn't mean I'm not)
I don't believe I'm worth it.

I've been asked (more than once), "Why aren't you married?" My heart answers, "You're just getting to know me. Give it a little while."

Am I being too hard on myself? Maybe. I'm not at a point to make that decision. I do know I'm prideful. I do know that I get annoyed when people younger than me get married for the second time. I think I mess up a lot of chances in my life to get married once, but I don't want to rush into it and marry the wrong woman. But I do want to rush into it and marry the right one. There's nothing about being single that I love so much that I wouldn't give up if God told me to marry. I just want Him to tell me. I guess what it comes down to is that I don't trust me. I don't trust dating. I'm waiting and praying for God to tell me to propose to someone. And I'm also praying that I would have the faith to do it.

I heard someone speak favorably about me tonight. I heard what he said and I knew he was speaking about me, but I felt like he was speaking about someone else. Like it wasn't me. Like I was a fake. And maybe I am. It's irony. I look inside me and all I see is this dirty shell. Others look at me from the outside and see the Holy Spirit living inside me. He didn't describe me as I am, but as I want to be, as I will be.

God will make me perfect, but He's got a lot of work to do to get me there. But He's up for the challenge.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Comingin for a landing

I feel like I've been shot out of a cannon long ago. My flight has been wonderful, but I think I'm ready to come in for a landing soon. I might need to be collected and fired again.