Cygnus33's Xanga

Friday, November 20, 2009

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 22:08:11 GMT

To have blogged and lost is to never have blogged at all, right?

Wrong. Goofy Xanga Maintenance shut-downs!

The Gentlemanly Savior

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 23:31:05 GMT

I'm sitting here at my computer, trying to manipulate my Xanga page into a somewhat satisfactory manner, when my little cat jumps onto the table beside me, stares for a moment, and lets out the most pitiful, drawn-out, half-whine, half-yowl cry.

She's been doing this often. If ever I spend too much time staring at the screen, she'll come over, rub against me, and start her whining. Ignore her long enough, and I've found she'll either go to sleep somewhere...or jump onto the keyboard.

I guess Dessah recognizes that, unlike when I'm reading or watching television, my focus is almost wholly here. And that perhaps I ought to be paying attention to her, finding her lost mouse, or...I don't know what.

Can you imagine if God were demanding like that? And he more than anyone has that right.

Well...you know that scripture in Revelations where Jesus says, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock"? Did you know that scripture in context is spoken to Christians? Not to unbelievers...but to the Redeemed! Those whom Jesus saved, those who claim him to be their Lord...!

And yet he's out there knocking. Not pathetically begging, not stalking, not whoring himself out to convince us to let him be a part of our lives... He's just knocking. Just hoping someone will open the door and give him a chance to be in fellowship with him. To become spiritually whole and rich.

It's a bit heartbreaking, really. What if Jesus were an ordinary guy, like your neighbor...a guy who confronted, let's say, the robber who broke into your home one night while you and yours were sleeping. He saves your lives...because it turns out this criminal was really a homicidal maniac about to kill you all. Now Jesus ends up stopping the guy, but gets badly, badly hurt in the process.

Okay, now say that once Jesus gets out of the hospital, he decides he's going to come back and make sure you and your family are okay. But he doesn't assume any special place of honor in your home despite his saving actions. No, he's too polite to just barge in. So he stands out on your cold, dark porch...knocking. Waiting for you to leave your dinner table and let him in.

Can you really imagine not? But, essentially, I fear too many of us do.

You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent.
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. Revelations 3:17-20, NIV

She Told Me to Write

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 21:00:00 GMT

I had a very interesting encounter today with a woman who exemplifies the Titus 2:3-5 woman, and her instruction was the final push to get me back here. Not just here...as in Xanga-here, but in the broader sense of finding the desire to be "Christian" again.

That sounds horrible. As if I wasn't in the last month-and-a-half. But perhaps in one way I wasn't... not in the productive sense. I got apathetic in October, and very depressed. As depression usually does, it snuck up on me. I lost interest in reading the Bible, writing, praying... The energy went first, then the interest. I realized the severity of my state when I caught myself considering a way that I might kill myself. Gosh...I hadn't been there in years.

I don't know even how many McCheyne readings I missed, and in the last month my journal-to-God entries number only two. And I began considering the futility of writing at all here. Do I really help anyone? One person kindly messaged me, and another left a comment...

But too much time had lapsed, and I didn't know where to begin again...

Excuses. Merely apathetic excuses.

Then today this sweet, Spirit filled woman from Detroit found herself at a Royal Oak dealership to get her vehicle fixed. She said she didn't know why felt like going north, passing I don't know how many mechanics on the way. But there she was at my account, sitting directly in front of a troublesome Yucca, and she started talking to me about it.

And for once I wasn't in a hurry. She had been "name-dropping" throughout her conversation: "...the Spirit said," and "...the Spirit led." I happened to see a Max Lucado book in her open purse sitting before her. As I was getting ready to move on, she asked me if I liked what I was doing, and if this was what I really wanted to do.

"Yeah," I said, "it's a good job."

"No, I don't mean this. What do you really want to do?"

"I want to write," I said without thinking, "Christian non-fiction." But to do that, I need to stop being apathetic and lazy about it all. And that's the hard part.

Before I walked away, this wise woman told me that she had been sensing trouble coming for a while, before the economy collapsed, and I believe her inferrence was there is still trouble ahead. She referenced Esther, the for such a time as this passage, saying that we're given gifts and tools to help and that we need to use those now. To stop waiting, stop putting it off.

And she told me to write.

Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. Titus 2:3-5, NIV

Why love at all?

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 20:00:00 GMT

Wondering why God loves really began for me with question "Why love?" I would always question the motive for love, basically because almost all relational experience I had pointed to love requiring a cost.

Relationships with coworkers are really dependent upon performance, so I have no troubles in this arena. Romantically...well, all those seemed to require sex, and without explanation, that cost hasn't worked for me. I never could never understand what payment friendship enacts, however, so I essentially alienate myself, thinking that, like a decent romantic relationship, a person couldn't possibly like me for just me, right?

So I acquire pets. Instant, albeit forced, companionship. Though even there, I honestly don't believe my pets "love" me. Too many times, I'd make a comment about Keeg or one of the dogs fawning over me, and my Mom would reply, "It's because he loves you." And of course I don't believe that; animals don't love. They know I feed them, give them a place to live, or as in the case of my ferret and cat, am the only person they ever see.

I used to have these long, onesided arguments as to the basis of love, and I had gotten it down very indisputably to instinct. This essentially means that love has to have a reason why and reason for. And that abolishes the supposed existence of love by completely replacing it with motivational instinct. I had nearly had this hypothesis destroyed when I considered my parents. Of course they loved me. All my life they have done a dozen things or a dozen other which proved it and they get nothing in return.

Yet one huge thing that science teaches is that it would be and indeed is an advantageous trait for parents to love their children, especially the slowly maturing Homo sapien individuals...and thus I landed back onto instinct. And instict in turn gives reason for marriage...so love doesn't even find its reality there.

But then comes the case of God, which is where my theory falls apart. Though instinct and self-seeking motivations may provide explanation for "love" in all other creations, it doesn't in God. And if I can't understand why God might love, then can't accept that love, I'll never believe or accept "love" from anywhere else.

Not questioning His love, but wondering why?

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 20:25:39 GMT

I had one of my favorite Xangans recommend a book to me this spring, one that talked about how much God loves us. The Xangan had seen something in my writing that caused her to suggest it...though I hadn't picked it up immediately. Ever feel like that? as though the book wasn't meant for "now"?

Well a few weeks ago, as I began sliding into a depressive fit and went scrambling for any root to pull myself up with, I opened that book. I read the first chapter, than a few more. But after a few days, my dissatisfaction with it was growing. The basic feel it gave me was that God does love us...which was never a thing I doubted. I don't question he loves me; I just can't figure out why. And having God love you versus receiving that love...two different things.

It's me who doesn't love me, so why should I let God?

We sang this new song a church today, and some of its lyrics were "lover of my soul" and "come dance with me". Far to intimate. I'm not a John, not the disciple who can just relax curled up to Jesus. I'm a Peter...over-reacting, forever saying the wrong thing, trying to defend God... I don't know if Peter actually suffered what I do, this thought of "why me"? Because I do get that Jesus loves me...I just can't figure out why.

So the book recommendation was excellent, because without it, I never would have exasperatedly thrown it down with the expostulation, "This isn't my issue! I know you love me, I just don't feel I'm worthy of it!"

If you try to tell me something like, "Of course you're not worthy, but he loves you anyway" or "You are worthy of his love"...it won't help. I know it all logically, but those words are akin to telling an anorexic they're not fat. I needed a heart-change.

So I'm taking my own advice, advice borrowed from some pastor: to read the Bible as something that actually applies to me, to my life. The intention was lost consciously nearly as soon as I stated it, but then I got sick with a cold on Thursday, and wondered why I didn't believe the promises of healing were for me? It was just a thought; I'm sketchy on my stance of physical healing, but following that question I wondered if I believed any of the Bible was for me? Not the legalistic parts I'm so good at adopting...but the hope- and joy- and love-filled parts. The good stuff prosperity teachers love to expound on.

This is all complete randomness, a mere expression of my past weeks. I'm not even posting a verse because the only ones I can think of have to do with God loving me so that his glory can be seen through me...and that's a bit impersonal and not a bit encouraging. So, if you've read this and any of it made any sense, perhaps you have one.

The use of crying over spilled milk.

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 20:03:09 GMT

I was in a rush to get to church this morning, so much so that I nearly poured boiling water over my freshly ground beans without having installed the mug below the filter. It would have been almost sacrilege...that aromatic, amber brew spreading out over my stove.

Coffee for me is as near to Jesus as any inanimate object can be. Certainly I don't worship it, but many times I have very appreciatively praised God for creating the coffee tree, and nothing unimportant aggravates me more than waste, spillage, or mistreatment of the drink.

I averted the near mess, yet, with a shudder, envisioned one of my few luxuries spreading across the stovetop and seeping beneath the burners. Then another thought struck me, not a mental image, but a spiritual one: How much of what God gives his children finds no vessel to pour into?

Three times in the past week, I've heard or read this idea, that we've all the promises of goodness and blessing, of spiritual gifts and understanding, but that we have to receive them into our lives. When reading Paul's letters, the history Luke recorded, the examples of men like Peter and Moses, one can see that these men received those gifts from God and utilized them in their ministry for God.

So what is it that makes me different from them? Why am I not as productive and why am I so satisfied with being lazy? And beyond myself: if all Christians were able to receive the gifts of God the way that a handful throughout history have... Well, it's too easy to imagine how different this world would be.

Christ was innocent of sin, and yet for our sake God made him one with the sinfulness of men, so that in him we might be made one with the goodness of God himself. Sharing in God's work, we urge this appeal upon you: you have received the grace of God; do not let it go for nothing. 2 Corinthians 5:21 -6:1, NEB

In Flower

Wed, 16 Sep 2009 21:57:05 GMT

As I walked through my hospital atrium yesterday morning, I immediately noticed three of my spathyphyllum flowers had been damaged. Someone (that ever nameless individual) had poorly cut two flowers off one plant and shredded a bloom from another. Now I realize I'm being a bit of a perfectionist, that of my forty or more spaths growing amidst my hundreds of other plants and trees there, to recognize three missing flowers is a bit neurotic...but I had touched each of those plants...had pulled out each of those blooms.

Why the flowers? Why not the leaves? This is what really irks. It's bad enough to find leaves shredded, drawn on, spit on, or crushed...but the flowers? Leaves are ordinary, performing the day-to-day work of the plant. Flowers, on the other hand, are special...taking a lot of time, energy, and resources to produce. They're the reason we prize the plant, have taken it from its tropical forest and brought it into our homes. And when I see someone maliciously vandalize that...for no good purpose but because they're callously inconsiderate... If these plants had a consciousness, they'd stop flowering.

And just now the Holy Spirit quipped in, derailing, or perhaps realigning, my intended direction tonight. He said that if "plants stopped flowering, they'd stop reproducing."

Each of us has this "leaf-work" aspect of our lives, the daily patterns, habits, and jobs. Rarely do people brag to themselves that they woke up and went about their day, but we do each have these various pursuits and talents which we feel make us stand out. Perhaps stemming from our daily life, but they're also above and beyond; we don't need them to live...but do them anyway. And we put them out there for the world.

Then the inevitable and memorable day when that nameless someone comes along and stomps our flower.

I likened myself to these plants in my journal-to-God last night, making to him the comment, "they'd stop flowering if they knew what was coming." It does get hard when our endeavors to do something other than the expected gets ravished. But of course, the Spirit is right. If we prevent the talents and passions he put in us from blossoming, we'll not be happy with ourselves and we'll not be producing for the benefit of his Kingdom.

Therefore, my beloved brothers, stand firm and immovable, and work for the Lord always, work without limit, since you know that in the Lord your labour cannot be lost. 1 Corinthians 15:58, NEB

Limitless...even beyond Jesus' work.

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 21:50:27 GMT

My last post generated a comment that started me thinking. BibleRapture reminded me of this verse, something Jesus said to his disciples during the Last Supper: "I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father." Doesn't it make sense that with the Holy Spirit in us, we also can do the Lord's work? Perhaps this is what is meant by the immediately proceeding, "and I will do anything that is asked for in my Name." If moved by the Spirit to do the Father's work, doesn't it make sense that the work would get done?

If I dared say, however, that we Followers of Christ can do even greater things than Jesus, I believe some would consider it blasphemous. That our works can be greater than Jesus'...how dare I say such a thing?!

But Jesus said it first, and his predecessors proved it.

Consider the Apostle Paul. He traveled further geographically than Jesus. He planted more churches than Jesus' one, and wrote letters that would become the Bible...things Jesus didn't physically do. Consider also the countless missionaries who crossed oceans with the Gospel, men like St. Patrick and lesser known Samuel Adjai Crowther: a converted, would-be slave who returned to his native Africa with the message of Jesus. And, of course, the many Christians instrumental in abolishing slavery during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, another thing Jesus didn't do in his life. Even Constantine, whether moved politically or genuinely by the Holy Spirit, legalized Christianity...something Jesus certainly hadn't done in his flesh.

I don't say any of this to diminish the work of Jesus...not at all! I say it to help show that Jesus knew what he was saying to the disciples the night he was arrested, that it was "good for him to go," because until he went to the Father, the Counselor...the indwelling Holy Spirit...couldn't come. And I believe that the Spirit, working through all Christians, has done and can do more in this world than Jesus could restricted as he was in his single body.

Limitless

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 23:25:49 GMT

Therefore, my beloved brothers, stand firm and immovable, and work for the Lord always, work without limit, since you know that in the Lord your labour cannot be lost. 1 Corinthians 15:58, NEB

In my opinion, there seems to be this group of Believers that really make it. By which I mean their name and life has an impact that extends beyond the tiny sphere of normal influence. The Apostle Paul, Martin Luther, C.S. Lewis, Charles Spurgeon, Billy Graham, and their many contemporaries.

Then there's the rest of us. We live our life, serve the Lord...and I certainly don't mean to belittle that. Many of us just won't be remembered outside of our own family for the work we do while alive. Still, I don't think there is much difference between those of this latter group and those Christians whose name is recognized world-over and for centuries. We differ in audience perhaps, in our culture and God's intended purpose for our time here, and in other little ways...but he still has a plan for each of to be and do something in his Kingdom. As for myself...I doubt I'm living up to his whole purpose for my life.

I'm not looking for negations to that assessment nor for encouragement. It's a fact, one that I'm always struggling to fix while wondering if I'm already doing all I can. Then I read verses like the one above, one which I find inspiring as it implies the wonderful truth that our lives and work have no ceiling when done in the Lord.

It ought to make us wonder quite a bit, about what we're doing and can yet be doing.

The Angel(?) in the Chapel

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 20:00:00 GMT

At the hospital the other morning, having to rush my way through the plants to catch up from the Labor Day holiday, I'll admit I was feeling far from Christian. Or righteous, holy, pious...even grateful. Instead I was mentally whining and complaining about someone cutting the stamen from a spathyphyllum flower. I know the flowers get messy...but we don't cut people's genitalia off for that reason! And it wasn't their flower to begin with!

So I'm not too happy, and the last part of the account was the chapel, and I had to get to the palms near the alter, but a lady was doing something up there and I therefore busied myself with a personal plant. The chapel is the one place I won't begrudge someone's dawdling...because even I admit dawdling with God is precious time.

Suddenly, the woman Janice is standing over me, having finished with her task. "It's so nice of you to take care of these plants," she kindly said.

Not thinking, because my mind is two accounts away, I responded quickly, "Oh, no...I get paid for this!"

Her expression faltered a bit, and fearing I disappointed her, I stood up, put down my shears, and continued, "But I do love my job. Wouldn't have had it but for God." I shared how I got the job, still too quickly, but my harried speech was completely stalled when Janice asked if she could give me a hug.

I learned a lot from her...a lot. The woman even made me tear at one point because she told me that she could see the "light of Jesus shining so clearly through you."

Really? In the mood I was in? I don't know what she saw, but I didn't think it could be Jesus. In the mind-frame I had been in all morning, frenzied and distracted and annoyed, why would Jesus want to shine through me? How could Jesus shine through me? Of all the vessels Jesus could reveal himself through, it wouldn't be such a jaded, tarnished, cracked pot like me...right?

Then this image I had seen a pastor use once came back. She had put a candle in a perfectly whole vase...and of course, very little light could be seen. Then she did the same with an old, ugly, greatly broken pot, and no surprise, that earthen vessel lit up like a jack-o-lantern.

I get the imagery, but I thought that I had a part to play in that. To at least constantly remember my blessings, and to enjoy them. "Janice" (because unless I see her in a week, I'll suspect she was a manifestation of Hebrews 13:2) was a wonderful reminder to me of that, and I kept that in my sight the rest of the day.

Still...what God but ours would so kindly discipline me, send a ministering angel to encourage me, as well as tell me that I'm a blessing? I may not have been a cracked-pot shining for Jesus before Janice, but I hope to think I was after.

[The Good News] is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives from the day you first heard and understood the truth about God's wonderful grace. Colossians 1:6, NLT