'It's tidings of comfort and joy"

It is not scientific doubt, not atheism, not pantheism, not agnosticism, that in our day and in this land is likely to quench the light of the gospel. It is a proud, sensuous, selfish, luxurious, church-going, hollow-hearted prosperity.

- Frederic D. Huntington, Forum magazine, 1890, as quoted in Crazy Love.

Prosperity hardens the heart.

- William Wilberforce

A satisfied soul loathes the honeycomb,

But to a hungry soul, every bitter thing is sweet.

-Proverbs 27:7

Because I have such a sweet tooth and tend toward an addictive behavior with regards to sugary treats, I can readily relate to a feeling of overdoing it.

It's like a chocolate hangover, if you will.

It's this feeling of not wanting to see another sweet thing for 100 years, because your stomach is so cross at you for taking in too much, it has a terrible stale, sick feeling. Part of you wishes you could puke and get rid of it, just to bring an end to the gross feeling of excess. The only thing in the world that sounds good at this point is lettuce or water or maybe black tea. Something clean, clear, clarifying, and thin, to counter all the thick, rich, creamy excess.

I've had so much of a good thing, that is has become unpalatable and distasteful.

The thing that I loved became repulsive to me.

I believe we as westerners are sick on comfort in this same pattern. In so much as is in our power, we so strive to, and by and large have successfully polished, perfected and crafted our lives to serve the god of our choice, our comfort.

In years past when I was less in-tune to my body, I remember feeling the need to counter too much sugar with too much salt. For example, craving chips after a bowl of ice cream. It was unsuccessful, of course, as a solution, and only created a self-perpetuating cycle. One kept leading to the other and my poor body was an innocent victim of my mouth and my folly!

I find that it is the same with comfort. We so satiate ourselves on comfort and ease, that we keep having to push the envelope toward edginess and ugliness to bring back some feeling of reality or balance since our lives are too sickeningly sweet and ultra-clean.

Everything seems to reflect this pattern of unbalanced excess swaying from one gluttonous pendulum swing to another. We are manifesting it in all our expressions of life.

Genres of music have developed that are mostly fuzz and static and chaos, grinding, war-like grunting grating screaming. Visual art depicts mess, more chaos and aggressive black scribbles. Simple beauty when depicted in art now, is seen as unpalatably cheesey and even mocked by many published art writers and critics. Hobbies have developed to include jumping out of planes or off of bridges tied to an elastic, trying one's luck with wild and/or poisonous animals and many other daredevil adventures of which I don't even know. Here's a quick google top 10 list of some of the edgy danger some call fun.

The entertainment industry is certainly doing all it can muster to push the outermost limits of sensationalism. Sex can't simply be sex anymore - it must be twisted to involve and include almost anything you can think of and many you never would have, including pain and suffering.

I realize the last sentence is not a new development- there have been sexual abuses as long as there have been societies of people. I would argue, however, the prevalence, general acceptance and degree of perversion has increased in recent times.

The degree and frequency of violence in all entertainment media is well known. I just received a notice from Anna's school regarding a certain popular video game, to raise awareness. The description that was shocking to me, reads as follows:

This is a first-person shooter in which players control a U.S soldier who

works for the C.I.A. and participates in both well-known and secret events

during the Cold War (including assassinations and interrogations

involving torture). Players use a wide variety of weapons such as pistols,

rifles, machine guns, and explosives to kill/injure enemies.

Combat can generate pools of blood and dismembered limbs. Players can

use enemy bodies as human shields and execute them at close range.

In one sequence, broken glass is placed in the mouth of a man while

he is repeatedly punched, causing blood to spill from his mouth.

(Descriptive and graphic language plays a large role in the game.)

We're bored with anything less.

Did that sound good to you? Sounds like the opposite of true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy - what Philippians 4:8 commends to us as what should fill our minds and thought life.

(The game was Call of Duty: Black Ops, by the way.)

I see where idea of a God of comfort becomes undesirable when you don't know real suffering nor have suffered any lack. We have a growing appetite for the ugly and twisted. Have you seen the movie 300? I've only seen glimpses, but to me, it was such a dark glorification of freakish perversion, pain, and power, through violence and fornication. Don't go see it just to find out, if you haven't. No really, please don't. Remember Philippians 4:8!

I had the happy opportunity to see a few clips from a documentary film that showed some of the underground church in China, as well as rural ministries in Africa. The kinds of things they face day to day, year after year are things we in the West as a whole have never encountered outside of digital media. There was real suffering. Not a delay in a pleasure (Shoot! My wireless connection is SO slow! Och! What is their PROBLEM!??).

I mean actual suffering. The kind where you suffer.

Not the kind where you are inconvenienced.

Many had seen family members massacred in front of them, been victims of brutality themselves, lived in fear of imprisonment, and much more.

So much of the West is numb to this reality, in part because of the glorification and use of misery as entertainment.

An offer of comfort and joy to those in those real-life situation would be the most relieving, refreshing and life-giving salvation to them. They can see more tangibly the meaning and value of the Gospel. It absolutely has no less value to the affluent Westerner! We just can't see it or feel it. Nor do we particularly want it.

We're good, thanks.

Nothing could be further from the Truth.

We are not good.

We have od'ed ourselves so grossly on counterfeit pleasures that we have cultivated addictions to them; our appetites have been corrupted to favor them, turned toward them. It happens in the physical as well as emotional and spiritual. 9 out of 10 people reading this probably have physical appetites out of sync because of abuses and gluttony. When you eat too much sugar, you are initially sickened by it. (that might have happened when you were too young to remember it) But then it creates the appetite for more... and more and more. You seek that pleasure experience repeatedly, and don't self-control it. You will find eventually that you are eating it out of habit even more than pleasure, if you pay close enough attention, but you can't seem to stop. You've created a habit to perpetuate the excess. The same could be said of excessive quantities, salt or any excess. It creates imbalance that is self-perpetuating.

When a ball bearing in a car becomes damaged, it can no longer spin in its perfect groove. The bearing will eventually seize up from the damage and uneven wear. The misaligned groove that the imbalance creates just keeps getting deeper and bigger. The initial damage kept perpetuating itself.

Like I said, folks, I was there. I so so so get it.

It can change. I'm still working on it, but I have come a long way.

What are we going to do about it?

God save us from our gluttony of comfort and our riches.

Jesus provides the only true salvation.

The broken and contrite heart He will not deny.

Come, Everyone who thirsts,

Come to the waters;
And you who have no money,
Come, buy and eat.
Yes, come, buy, without money and without price.
Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
And let your soul delight itself in abundance.
Incline your ear, and come to Me.
Hear, and your soul shall live;

from Isaiah 55:1-3

The Light of Your Face

My dad is a sucker for gadgets.

He once bought me a bagel slicer, and at its presentation I said,

"But I already have one!"

"You do?" he replied, surprised.

"Yes!" and I pulled out a steak knife from the drawer.

...

He also had this flashlight (let's not get into his obsession with flashlights...) that was attached to an elastic band so that you would wear it around your head, and like a miner, you could have hands-free illumination wherever you point your face. He got me one once, cause no one should be without this little gem, right?

And it can be helpful, especially since I have no light of my own.

My face emanates no brilliance or splendor.

But God does. He doesn't need a headlamp.

All I need is his gaze upon me to illuminate me.

Simply directing his face to me will give me light.

God, You see me. Shine upon my darkness and give me light!

May I reflect it out into the world!

Don't Judge a Weed by Its Leaf

Say hello to my Million Bloom Plant.

That is actually what it's called, and the name is pretty accurate.

It was a gift from a sweet friend at church.

I love it, it's beautiful, except that at first I spent so much time dead-heading it, my family went hungry. It behaves more or less like a petunia, so I thought it required dead-heading to re-bloom, but reading up a little to do this blog post I found out it doesn't. Oh well. Forgo the housekeeper I guess. Back to the kitchen with me.

However, it doesn't seem to be rooted deeply. Get a little overzealous in your dead-heading and you'll unintentionally yank out the whole stem. It's quite easy actually.

I was thinking about what a show this plant puts on. It blooms constantly for months, from May til hard frost. In a warm climate it can even be perennial.

Then I thought about some of my experiences weeding in the garden. Talk about roots! Anyone who has ever gotten their hands even a little dirty in a garden knows of what I speak. I have been baffled and amazed at how a little leafy scruff can have a root that seems to burrow under the ground a mile like the Toronto PATH or something. You pull... and pull... and pull some more, and a root you never imagined judging by the look of it comes out, certainly a lot more than there had been leafy display.

It's the flora equivalent of an iceberg.

And I think about how so many Christians are like that. There is a big display, loud Amens, big Bible, membership in all the right groups, participation in all the meetings, a presentation of enthusiasm, but no hidden life in Christ: no deep roots, no grounding, no prayer life when nobody is watching, no hunger that drives us into the Word even when distractions try to draw us away, no loving the unlovely.

Everything is above ground and pretty.

But a flood and a strong wind will uproot the one that doesn't go deep.

A little minor pruning could prove to be the ruination of the shallow-rooted one. He can't bear up under it. Instead of bettering, it destroys him. He spends all his energy and nutrients he gathers on constantly producing more shows.

The weed was spending his energy on cultivating those long roots, and propagating. His appearance may be humble (yet still beautiful in my estimation), but that wasn't his priority. Therefore he has a poor reputation among those who cultivate showy gardens.

He is shunned and cast out.

While he may not have the colors or the flashy display of the other, he is sturdy, he does have his own grace, he'll be back next year, and he will spread. Those expansive roots will make more plants, also sturdy and deep rooted. In winter, he will rest and endure, he will do without and survive, and as soon as there is an inkling of sun and heat again, he will be back. He didn't die in the season of difficulty, though he mightn't have liked it. He quietly waited for the Spring. He stored up and was rarin' to go as soon as the opportunity presented itself, as soon as conditions were conducive.

As the song says, "Ya gotta go down, if you wanna go up.

You gotta go lower, if you want to go higher and higher.

You gotta hide and do it in secret, if you want to be seen by God.

Cause it's the inside outside upside down kingdom,

where you lose to gain,

and you die to live."

Sunday, Going to Church

Anna looked at all the traffic as we drove to church Sunday morning and said,

''Wow! Are all these people going to church?''

I wish, Sweety. I'm pretty sure they're not.

Here's where I'm at, as sung by Rita Springer.

Listen to it as well if you like by clicking on the song title.

Phenomenon

I am not here just to see a phenomenon.

I am not here for experiential bliss.
I simply come to the feet of the God I serve,
The One that I love

I am not here for the sake of the people's praise.
I have not come to see the thunder and rain.
I simply come into courts of the King above
The One that I praise

I want to find the way to His chambers
I want to be in the presence of the Lord
I am in need of his mercy and favor
Forever more

I am not here for the sake of a miracle.
I am not here just to see the dead raised.
Yes, I believe in power supernatural
That's how I am saved

I've had enough of this life of a Pharisee!
I want to know this Jesus who's been loving me -
I'm running into the temple just to see the one that I love

I want to find the way to His chambers;
I want to be in the presence of the Lord!
I am in need of his mercy and favor, Forever more

I give my heart to the one they call Jesus
Seeking out first the very kingdom of God;
You are the Way and the Truth I believe it
You are my phenomenon

You can move mountains whenever You want to
You can speak to the sea whenever it pleases You

Forgive me, o Lord, if I have been a market place-
Turn me upside down so I will seek Your face
And if Your presence comes into this place
So will the thunder and rain!

You are my phenomenon.

You are mine and I am Yours.

May I be all Yours, God, all Yours...

Confession and Challenge: Readiness

So many thoughts; swimming, swimming, and I come here to sort and inventory, apparently.

I am so full of lies and self-deception. Seeing myself on youtube recently came as a real surprise, and was only one aspect of the self-awareness program that I have been subjected to the past couple weeks.

I say I know and believe that Jesus could return any day, any minute, because no one knows the hour. But I don't live as if I believe this.

I'm just going to be totally transparent here. As much as one hand is grabbing the other hand telling it not - to - type - this - I've been embarrassed lately by how many times a visitor has come into my house unannounced - that's fine, I welcome it - but more times than I would have preferred, they came in and found me in front of the computer- not in front of my sink, or with a broom in my hand, or a mixing bowl in front of me, or sitting on the couch reading Niamh a book, as I would have preferred. But apparently, without my really realizing it, I am whisking away to the glowing blue screen more often than I think is good, or I would not have been embarrassed.

I feel like I'm caught with my pants down.

I don't want this to happen when the Lord returns.

I don't want Him to come, for the trumpets to sound, for Him to descend from heaven with a shout and with the voice of the archangel, and for me to be busy scrolling down checking facebook status updates. I want Him to find me ready, about my Father's business, not distracted with folly and vanity. I want to already be looking into the sky in anticipation.

Is it true that every action we do is an act of service to something, or someone?

When we go to the toilet, we are serving our bladders.

We work serving our employers and providing for/serving our families.

We can preach the Gospel, serving the King of Kings.

We can dress to impress serving our pride, or spend the time and money otherwise.

We can serve the lowest and in so doing, serve our King, Jesus.

Eat to serve your hunger.

Read to serve your curiosity or desire for entertainment.

Exercise to serve/benefit your muscles.

Is it true that every action we do gives glory to something or someone?

If I choose gouda over swiss, I am declaring by my choice that I believe gouda to be superior, or that at the very least I prefer it at that moment. If I spend the one hour of free/personal time I have at the end of a day on emails/blogs/social networking instead of in prayer or the Word of God, am I not passively stating my preference, where my desire lies? With every purchase, word selection in our speech, book read, music listened to, show watched, food eaten, we are declaring preferences in our choices - if we prefer it, we are exalting it above the other options.

The Bible says (I Cor. 10:31) whatever you do, whether you eat or drink, do it all for the glory of God. (p.s. I won't go there as much as I could, but to me this says that we can glorify God or not, by our food and drink choices.)

Am I glorifying God in my choices?

Do my preferences betray me or do they reveal a heart after God's heart?

How can I claim that I am person of One Thing, as David did in Ps. 27:4, when my fickle adulterous heart seeks a harem of lovers? I know what it's like to have the hunger where my desire for God is insatiable. I must read, I must pray, I must worship and sing to Him, it is fire in my bones -- rocks for the internet! It sounds awful! Turn it off, get it away from me! It can't possibly come between me and my God!

But that's not where I've been. I've run to distractions whenever I had the chance. If I ran and read a verse with anticipation the way I ran over to check my email the last month I could have done a lot of reading. I'm might have grown in God, instead of knowing all about someone's cat's visit to the vet whom I don't talk to in real life or have real relationship with.

I remember not having a sweet clue what facebook was. Why can't we live without it again? I joined to see one friend's photos. A real life friend. Who knew it was like trying crystal meth or something. One sample and you're toast! Maybe not the very first time, but give it time, it will suck you into its vapid vacuum.

I am reminded of Chambers' quote: Beware of the good thing that keeps you from the best.

I John 3:3 says that everyone who has this hope fixed in HIM, purifies himself.

If I have this hope, I will purify myself. So do I? Yes?

Then get going.

Anyone who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins.

James 4:17.

Let's go for it. Seriously.

Shake everything that can be shaken, Lord.

PBP. GIFWMY.

Maybe you haven't seen that before. If not, it stands for "Please be patient. God isn't finished with me yet."

God has certainly been patient with me. Good grief. It's amazing, really. We as humans should learn from this. If we know (or think we know) very much more than another, be patient with that person! The gap between your knowledge/wisdom levels and theirs are certainly not approaching that of God's and yours, but He, with love and kindness, endures our folly and waits while we grow EVER so slowly, over yeeeears and years.

O Let us love as we are loved.

I moved to this area called Monastery 7 years ago. It is a very isolated and remote place, by my big city standards. It was within the same year that I saw God's really un-subtle sense of humour when I realized that there was no accident that I was here, that the name of the place was what it was, and what that implied for me. What is a Monastery, but a sequestered place of prayer? It is to this place that He brought me, and I felt that I was to learn here to pray, and to embrace a life of prayer.

Now, I am a very noisy, social creature by nature; so in order to quiet me, and to teach me to lean on Him, to be still and listen, and not lose myself in an occupied flurry of friends and activities, He had to dump me in the woods. I would not have chosen this myself, as that lack of social activity sounded like nightmare to me. I feared it. I struggled through years here, wishing for it to be different.

Why I didn't simply yield to the lesson that He made clear to me from the beginning, I dunno.

But I feel now, my knee bows, after years of stiffening my neck, and bucking against the goads, (how many Biblical references can I throw in one sentence?) I am beginning to submit, and learn, and discipline, to see, and hunger, and kneel. Praise be to God, who waits, and who leads us on, whose glory shines and draws our hearts to Himself. Who does not change, who loves us in our weakness.

-------------------------------------------------------

I was thinking about the verse tonight, II Chronicles 7:14, "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."

I never understood why it took humility to pray. I don't see it as any great stretch to know that it takes the power of God to move on the hearts of men in order for them to come by the bus load from the pub to the church, or fall in the streets under conviction of sin, as happened in the Hebridean revival of the early 1950's. I would never expect any worship leader to be cool enough, or preacher convincing enough to cause this kind of remarkable occurrence. So of course, we would need to pray - that didn't require any stretch or uncomfortable humility to me. Like if I was asked to carry my house to the other end of our field. Would it require great humility to concede that I couldn't do it? No! There would be no chance! Of course another way would have to be found.

So I was thinking about it tonight, and I thought - to really give oneself to prayer, takes away from our lives as we might otherwise lead them. Maybe I will spend less time primping before church, and more time praying, but then - Ack! - I might not be perfectly coiffed! What would people think?? Maybe I spend more time on my knees praying at home, and am found when friends or family come in and discover me there. Maybe I spend less time on my house, and accept the judgment from others that I am not the ultimate Martha Stewart of Monastery. Maybe I spend less time social networking seeking affirmation and social strokes.
These require humility from me.
Humble yourself and pray...

I don't begin to think that is a full meaning behind the verse, just one little color in the rainbow of meaning and an implication for me.

Thank You, God, for not giving up on me.

Slave or Free Man

We all serve somebody. Larry Norman says so. I think he's right.

Just today Chris and I were talking about parenting in this light.

When you have kids, you sign up for slavery, as a radio commentator put it. Now, I would never trade this or go back. But as he heard in a radio show this morning, men are slaves to work to fund the lives and provision of their families; women are slaves to the family and home. They are on a pager 24/7, never off-duty, never on vacation - your time is no longer your own. You are always on the clock.

I heard a preacher say that a fundamental essence of our nature is our hatred of being told what to do. Five year-olds do not have the monopoly on this reaction; it is common to mankind. We have our own will, our own ideas and plans, and we want to do what we want to do, how we want to do it. When another will crosses that, we bristle. We don't like it. When our schedules and to-do lists are made for us, when the content of our life and time expenditure is decided for us, we don't like it.

This is one type of slavery, if you will.

Here is another:
It seems the vast vast majority of humanity are slaves to vanity, myself included, as my head hangs low with shame. Vanity in many forms, but all vanity in the end. By Vanity I simultaneously include and infer love of self and futility. I find the one leads to the other rather naturally.
The felt need to impress another human with our own coolness, superiority, or acquisitions and the lack of desire to please God, and more so the lack of fear of God, result in such a wealth of evils and waste. Years and years of millions of lives that amount to a landfill of time.

Maybe I should hold my tongue and not write when I'm this tired? Am I too bold? Meh.

We make ourselves slaves to money, to pride, to people-pleasing.
There is a slavery of service one could submit themselves to that holds monumental virtue, but it doesn't see the droves queuing up at the Lifestyle Line that the others do.
Why? My oh my, we are wickedly evil.

Parenting is a service of this virtuous variety, but it shouldn't end there. May this merely be for me a springboard and training ground to become a true self-pouring servant of God and his kingdom, embracing the least and being a blessing to true need and true lack.

Imagine now, if truly, you didn't care what was thought of you:
if someone thought you were attractive
if someone thought you were smart
if someone thought you had a nice house
if someone thought you were talented
if someone thought you were strong

It would be very freeing.

I heard once, and loved it ever since:


A man is free not when he lacks nothing,
but when he needs nothing.

How could we

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. 

The finger of God, which once directed the blazing stars to their place on the universe's stage, like the director of a great cosmic play, descended to write in the sand in Israel, to hold a child's hand, to bleed crimson drops of His own holy Blood on rough hewn wood, to bear the treachery and hellish punishment of every man, woman and child, in every place, of every generation. 

Because He loved us, even though we spat upon Him, physically at the time, and with our sinful rebellion to this day. 

Phenomenal. What magnitude of undeserved love.

Oo oo, I know, let's celebrate with a fashion show! I bet my kids have cuter dresses and hair than your kids, and then we'll eat sugar! Yes! Sugary bunnies! That's it! This is a perfectly appropriate commemoration of the most weighty moment in the history of mankind! 

I'm really not feeling that disjointed logic there, lately. If you know me, you know I have loved egg hunts in a big way from toddler hood til like 2 weeks ago. Then as I felt this sobriety this year, and again, watched the commercial mayhem blowing around me like a whirlwind, I was taken aback. What are we doing???

-----------------------------

I am heavy tonight, with the weight of contemplation, and sense of responsibility. I have been thinking about war tonight, discussing it, and am pressed by the price that has been paid for the lives that we have: by Christ for spiritual freedom, and by countless soldiers through the ages for my current social and political freedom. 

I can do with my life what I will. I have powerful, impacting choices before me every single day I awake to a new sunrise. What will I do with my choices today?

The tremendous cost at which that time and freedom came impresses upon me to make the most of the opportunity that all of life is!

To squander those in so many vanities and frivolities is to spit upon the dead. 

My own words find me guilty.

Seize the day. Live fully and with courage. Impact. Believe. Love. 

Act with love, decide in love, speak with love. 

New Year 2009

May it be happy.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

Lord, may I not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

Because it is in giving that we receive, 

in pardoning that we are pardoned, 

in dying that we are born unto eternal life:

Amen.

Prayer of St. Francis

but we keep trying

I got the first part of this post in an email. Hang on, don't tune out just yet; I have more original content for you afterwards.

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Santa rides in a sleigh.
JESUS rides on the wind and walks on the water.
Santa comes but once a year.
JESUS is an ever present help.
Santa fills your stockings with goodies.
JESUS supplies all your needs.
Santa comes down your chimney uninvited.
JESUS stands at your door and knocks.. and then enters your heart.
You have to stand in line to see Santa.
JESUS is as close as the mention of His name.
Santa doesn't know your name, all he can say is "Hi little boy or girl, What's your name?"
JESUS knew your name before we did. Not only does He know our name, He knows our address too. He knows our history and future and He even knows how many hairs are on our heads.
Santa says "You better not cry"
JESUS says "Cast all your cares on me for I care for you."
Santa puts gifts under your tree,
JESUS became our gift and died on the tree.
--------------------------

As I watch the customs and festivities around me, which to me seem pretty centered around materialism, I almost had to laugh, or cry, I couldn't really decide.

Everyone is after this rush that they can't quite achieve. Christmas is built up to deliver such excitement: oh the thrill, the joys, the ecstasy! I even saw commercials advertising for products that get the desired response from children; the parent goes and asks a clerk, "Where can I find the I love it!! Oh Oh oh!! It is so amazing!!! ??"
and the clerk answers that is in Isle 4 right next to the OH MY Gosh!! AAAHH!!! How did you know?? The people are screaming, sounding like they are about to fall on the floor in a fit of emotional overload.

After all the present opening hoohaw at our house this morning, Chris brought in a television and watched some Disney parade extravaganza show, which doubled as an infomerial for Disney theme parks.

I just couldn't get over the amount of energy and expense expended to make the most sensational, fantastic, thrilling show/experience/product. All this stuff is supposed to take your breath away. They hired famous multi-platinum artists to sing I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Cluas, acrobats, dancers, pyrotechnicians, bands, stages, elaborate sets, you name it. Same kind of hullabaloo as I talked about in the Olympic opening ceremonies.

And everyone sits picking their nose. You might smile, but no one really loses their breath, or is that impressed. 

The salesmen, the ones selling products and shows to buy happiness and thrill, work themselves into a sweaty frenetic frenzy to try and do the most amazing thing they can muster. I can almost hear them gruting, panting.

Yet God says one word, and the stars are hung in their fiery place in the firmament. 

One word, and there is LIGHT, where there hadn't been before. 

One word, and your spirit soars, when before you felt hopeless and swallowed by inescapable darkness. 

One enigmatic word, and a MAN and woman were made, with all the awe-inspiring complexity of the eye, all our inter-related internal systems, all the intricacies of the cell and DNA. From the miniscule to the majiscule, God has done the most mind-blowing things. 

Us = TONS of effort to make something mediocre

HIM = no effort to make the most phenomenal thing in the universe: indeed, even the universe itself!

But we overlook those wonders, and instead jump around in our spastic psychosis trying to muster up the thing or experience that will fascinate us, that will inspire awe and give pleasure. 

Silly creatures are we. 

What greater consequence is there of our folly, however, I wonder, far far beyond simply our own boredom and vain striving? 

Here's a couple pictures, cause pictures are pretty, and break up the monotony of all my words.

the girls enjoying some delicious Chewy Ginger Cookies 

and I just thought He was tidy

Ooooh, but it is so much more than that.

I just came to a better understanding of a verse (a dull way of saying, I got goosebumps and tingles in my tummy) through some cultural information that would have been common knowledge to the people of Jesus' day.

The verse is John 20: 6-7. It is describing the time after Jesus rose from the dead, and a couple disciples came to the tomb, and this is what they found:

6 Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; and he saw the linen cloths lying there, 7 and the handkerchief that had been around His head, not lying with the linen cloths, but folded together in a place by itself.

I believe that everything in the Bible is there for a reason- that God is purposeful and doesn't include anything just to fill space. So why did He bother to mention that the handkerchief was folded and separate? And why didn't Jesus just let it drop to the ground in a pile when He got up, or toss it in with the others?

WELL, it was the custom in that day, for servants to wait for the Master's cue before touching anything on the table. Don't clear anything til he is good and done. If he tossed his hanky down in a heap and left the table, that meant he's all done.

However, if He left the hankerchief folded, that meant

He was coming back.

Simple moment, treasured revelation

HAPPY EASTER, Everybody!

My Easter was kinda uncharacteristic for me, and I thought I was going to blog a big whine about it, but the Lord had more for my day than I knew.

Of course. :)

I was supposed to sing a special at church this morning, and I thought I had something cool for it, not a typical "special" but something unconventional and more me. A kind of story-song taken from a number of different songs, combining to tell the story of death and resurrection with accompanying praise.
Also, this is Anna's 3-year-old Easter, which I was kinda looking forward to, as MY 3-yr-old Easter is a story I've been told a million times over my life. But Anna has been getting carsick of late, so we couldn't really take her anyway.
Then to my utter "what?!?!?", we got a foot of snow plus freezing rain-blech-mess and there was no way I was going into town (to church) by myself in that.
So I couldn't end up going. Plans and anticipations foiled.

What?? Not go to church on Easter?!?!? No dressing up? No celebrating? No seeing my little blond angel in a foofy dress? No communion and corporate worship on this special day? I know it is lame to complain about not getting to dress up and execute social conventions on Resurrection Day, but that's partly where I was at. So I was feeling severely church deprived and pouty, even after Chris made a cool egg hunt for BOTH Anna and I first thing this morning.

Egg hunts still hold a very special place in my heart, and I love them. I have never outgrown them. At all.
As does Resurrection Sunday. Big for me.

The only plan in tact was going up to Chris' parent's house for turkey dinner and more egg hunts for Anna.

As we stepped out of the house to head up to Nanny's and into the crazy snowy icy encrusted mess, I helped Anna down the front stairs and then let her go, as she usually takes it on her own from there, being Miss Independent as she is now. But she felt the unsurety (I don't care if that's really a word or not) under her feet, the precarious, potentially slippery or deeper-that-it-looks deceptive whiteness, and stopped short.

This is where the simple moment in the natural world hit a profound eternal chord in my heart.

She stopped, sensed her unreliable footing, and reached her hand out to me.

"Mommy, will you hold my hand?"

And it hit me in the pit of my stomach.

People struggle with the humility and emptiness, the admission of powerlessness required to accept God's grace and forgiveness in the gift of Christ's sacrifice. Their pride gets in the way, and try to earn their way to heaven with their own goodness/works etc. Or in other less overtly spiritual circumstances in life, it is also often difficult to ask for or take help. I can speak for myself, when I was not as well as I am now, I found it very hard on my ego to accept as much help as I really needed to keep things going. I'm sure we could all think of instances that apply to us here.

Conversely, there is the opposite error of a lazy freeloading bummishness, the hands-off perspective on life and salvation that says, 'He'll save me, I can take a free ride. I needn't give heed to how I live'.

But I felt neither here at all. When she held out her hand to me, there was no pride in her voice. She was not so afraid of her weakness as to be unable to ask for help, innocently, truly. She was totally humble in that moment. There was no pretension, no defiant independence. Also, she trusted me implicitly. She was saying, 'I can't do it by myself. Help me.'
Neither was there moochiness or greed, ('just carry me, Mommy, I'm being a baby and refuse to walk') no taking advantage of a free ride or laziness, not wanting to bother walking on her own. It was a true realization of honest need, and an appeal from out of that place, having a complete trust and reliance.

There was a two-fold beauty in the moment. More than just the beauty of her humble request, was how my heart swelled with a powerful joy to answer and supply her need. It surprised even myself; such a surge of pleasure at the purity of her request. And I had a joy from the spring of my soul in that purity.

I imagine that bubbling joy is how the Father must feel when we come to Him with humility of heart, understanding our total inability to save ourselves, throwing ourselves completely on His mercy and provision for us, and how completely delighted He must be that we have come to Him! It is fully what He wants to do, to take that outstretched hand, to rescue from the mire of our own sin. What a beautiful thing when we approach Him neither in pride nor as spiritual free-loaders, but humbly aware of our desperate condition and need of Him.

Many's the time I've heard people talk about how God delights in our coming to Him with our need and relying on Him, but it never was a powerful personal reality for me as much as it was this afternoon. I felt it myself.

I can't really convey how it hit me, but that's it.
Lord, bless the reader with a revelation of what You have done for them today.

slow down and smell the dream

I have a few reflections, but they are all in their intellectual infancy. Thoughts for which I haven't taken the mental time to explore their applications and implications or let the m germinate to follow through to any conclusion. So I'll just see where the clicking typing keys take me.

Both came from things recently heard on CBC. I'm afraid this is gonna turn into a really long post. Oh well!

So there was a study done for the purpose of marketing research that explored how people think differently whether in groups or alone.
(Of course) They found there to be quite a difference. One of the things they did was to ask them to come up with a list of, say for example, cartoons, as many as they could think of in a given period of time. In groups, people came up with WAY fewer than the people who were left on their own to think. Now of course there was more to the study, but some of the conclusions they discussed were how when alone, people think more creatively than they do in groups. Ideas tend to be debated/argued/discussed in groups. Now mind you, this certainly has its place, but that alone time is where people's minds really go somewhere new (in that new-to-them kind of way, since there is nothing truly NEW under the sun... everything is something else rehashed or totally regurgitated somehow.) That the degree of focus was so increased when alone, that the creative areas of the brain were ignited in solitude.

And it reminded me of a story about the Mendelssohn siblings, Felix and Fanny. Around 1827, the plays of Shakespeare were just being translated into German. Well, with similar reception to the release of new Harry Potter books today, the Mendelssohns jumped at the release of each new Shakespeare play. They loved them to pieces, and devoured them voraciously. They were around like 14/15 (Fanny) and 17 (Felix) yrs old at the time, if I am remembering correctly. So one summer afternoon, Felix and Fanny had just finished reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, and they said to each other, Hey! I've got the coolest idea! (Jenni paraphrase) Let's stage this play for our parents in our back yard! Oh ya! That sounds great!
Party on, Fanny!
Party on Felix!!
(and maybe they jumped in the air and butted chests....
or maybe not...)

So they set to work. Fanny started, I dunno, making costumes or something, and Felix went inside to his room, and for the next however long, spent his free time composing "A Midsummer Night's Dream", the symphonic piece as a soundtrack to their performance, which would be executed by neighbourhood kids and/or Felix's buddies. Now, maybe you haven't heard this piece, or it has been a while. I recommend taking a refresher listen to it if you are able to. If you listen to it again with the contextual knowledge, that he was like 17 years old, was doing all this for FUN for a backyard play he was putting on with his little SISTER... I'm sorry, but it blows one's mind. The endless streams of creativity, of TIME and planning, simply giving your mind time to wander and explore polyphony, WORK that went into creating all the intricacies, both melodic and harmonic, the arranging, orchestration... unreal.

Who among us knows a 17 year old on the PLANET right now that would bother his bum to spend that much mental energy and time for something like this? Nobody. Our societies have changed to the point that this just wouldn't happen anymore. If I am not too bold in saying so, I would say that people are so accustomed to overstimulation, that we can no longer sit in solitude and quiet, and be alone with our thoughts and creative potential in the way that other eras and peoples have done. I would also argue that this has had and is currently having TREMENDOUS impact on the quality and nature of the entire society, individually and corporately. And like I've said before, if I am pointing fingers, you needn't worry, there are plenty pointing at me too. I am fully aware of (and annoyed by) my near-constant dependance on stimuli, be it cds or radio playing, internet, phone, you name it. Something is almost always going.


Secondly:
A Grecian writer, who was being interviewed, talked about the nature of vision. He explained that one of the primary ways the eye identifies the identity of something is by travelling to its edges and finding out, where does change occur? Where is the distinction between and how is it distinguished from and by whatever is around it? And this is part of how our brain/eye team discern what it is we are looking at. Find the boundaries, and you will better know the nature of what you are observing.

And my mind immediately applied this to a spiritual identity. There is so much blending in to the ways of the world these days, where is the Church's (and Believer's) line of distinction, and how does that identify us, how does it distinguish us from what surrounds us, and what does it say about us?

It reminds me of a sermon I heard that stuck in my head from my childhood as it was included in one of my favourite songs at the time. I am pretty sure it was Paul Cain speaking. Excerpts from it included: that there be a wall of separation built, a line of demarcation to come into existance... for there to be "some kind of a definition that this is sin, and this is righteousness, or this is precious and this is vile. But the Church has LOST this kind of distinction, She has no wall of protection. "
One of our biggest markers is supposed to be this:
John 13:35
"By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.”
But that's not the whole stew. There are more ingredients, as we don't take one verse and make it the whole picture.
So I'm left to ponder, where are my edges? Where do I shmear seamlessly into the world, and where is the godly demarcation? (I'm hoping there is, SOMEwhere... I don't want to be a compeltely impressionist watercolour person... or pastel drawing that a kid got a hold of... sorry.. arty mind wandering there... show of hands for all who followed my imagery - - - Good job!)

The middle of something is not as definitive as its edges. The middle might be generic. But the edges are so telling. I don't know how to articulate all that is rolling around in my thoughts, so with that, I'll give up and leave it with you. What do you think? Interesting, though, to me.

not sermon material.

So here are some of my more unconventional thoughts recently related to Biblical content.

Jonah- 3 days in a whale -
Holy Mackerel! ( ha.... ha.) I'm not one of those people who thinks that this was a parable or whatever. I believe it actually happened. That this poor dude actually was swallowed by, and 3 days later spat up by a whale.
Now, bear with me a moment on this one. Seriously, what in the WORLD was THAT like?!?!?! Hello? Would you say it pretty much had to stink like all get out... that's almost a given I would say. I dunno. what else? like, what did he sit on? what in the world is a whale's gut like? Not the Holiday Inn or even Howard Johnsons. Yes, the whole spiritual battle was going on, with the obedience issue, repentance/forgiveness etc., but physically, what in the WORLD did he really go through. Was it all slimy with intestinal mucous? Was he burned by digestive acids at all? I assume it was basically pitch black. So he's hearing weird gurgly noises, maybe, and not being able to see anything happening around him? How terrifying! God really knows how to get one's attention when He feels it is a matter of life and death for a city. I can't imagine NOT getting serious with God in this particular scenario.
But to give it a little more than passing thought can trip one out.
Just some thoughts.

Then last night I went to a worship service and a speaker mentioned the conversation Jesus had with the disciples in Matthew 16, when he asked them, "Who do YOU say I am?"
And the person was of course trying to get the congregation to think of our OWN answer to, who do YOU say I am? And I thought to myself, who IS He to me? And although the part I'm going to talk about here only offers the most incomplete answer imaginable to that question, None of us has the time for me to go into a more thorough answer. This is just the 'unconventional' segment, anyway.

You know how in the flash of a moment you can think of enough stuff to fill a weeks worth of daily blogging? Well that is kinda how this went.

In that moment, I thought of my attachment to physical things. I thought of my curtains, my house, my furniture, my dishes, clothes, the mangos in my fridge, you name it, all my worldy goods, and how unwilling I would be to voluntarily give those all up in a moment, to say, live in a cardboard box, and only have the clothes on your back from now on. I would consider that a painful sacrifice, a big step DOWN from my current standard of living. This of course answers for me the question posed in the Revival Hymn, "Is the world crucified to you, or does it fascinate you?" I am painfully aware of how not crucified it is to me still. But I digress.

Then I imagined this fictitious scene in heaven, in which God the Father, the Holy Spirit and Jesus are all sitting around a table, discussing the state of affairs some time ago, like, 2000 ish years ago. And They were broken in tears, that man was seperated from Them, that SOMEthing needed to be done to restore relationship. That They were devastated by the sin and how it created this chasm between God and His Beloved. And as They discussed (I know I'm really stretching here...) They knew that some ONE had to make an eternal sacrifice to pay the price for the sin of all. And they knew how it had to be done. And who stood up and volunteered? Jesus. He was the One who said, I'll go, I'll leave heaven, the angels, the glory, I'll go to that dirty filthy earth (which is great and all, I love creation, but in comparison to heaven... well...) and be spat upon and treated like the LEAST of any of them, even though I would be the greatest to ever be among them, to be unknown, small, weak, seperated and abused...
so that they can know Us, so that they can be my Bride.

What that says about Him and His character is kinda the point of the story. That He would volunteer to do the dirty work, of which Calvary certainly qualifies, if anything ever did. That He would stand in the gap for the unworthy ones (us). To quote Chris DuPre, "What kind of love made Him do that?"

And I looked at what I had just called a 'painful sacrifice' (what insult in comparison!) and how far far greater a condescension He made, to lay down heaven and all its glory in order to accomplish the Father's will, and how even the thought of giving up my home made me want to look desperately for a way to avoid it and high-tail'er - but HE didn't shrink from His task, He didn't cower or dodge the blows, He walked forward to it, even carrying his own cross.

There was no seeking or preservation of self in that walk.

Anyway, I don't know if that made any sense. But I'm not required to make sense here. I'm just sharing. :) If you don't like it, tough shnookies.

Isn't He amazing? How can we not love Him.

Consider it shaken.

Oh Faithful One. I love You Lord.
He didn't die for nothing. He will come.
Thank You, infinitely, for Your infinite mercy, on a people so undeserving, so wretched.
Have mercy on our hard hearts again.

Thank You God.

shake off the dust

Somebody! Shake it up!
I have been in this nasty spiritual malaise that is both annoying and scary. Can't like it.
I don't want to be defeatist. I want to be a visionary. I want to bring hope where it is a commodity.
I don't want to lose purpose in comfort.
I don't want to be lukewarm.
Stir it up in our hearts, God: a passion for Your Name.
I know there is more than this. Oh breath of God, breathe on us!

Christian Life

I am overwhelmed with these questions.

I haven't been able to sum any of this up nicely yet, but there is something I am stumbling over, and that is making me crazy right now.
Here goes:

So there was John the Baptist. He lived in the wilderness, ate locusts and honey, and wore burlappy type sacks for clothes. Jesus said of him in Matthew 11:11, "among those born of women there has not risen one greater than John the Baptist."

Jesus himself was a big scandalous trouble maker among church leaders, and upset the status quo for most everybody He encountered - for the good, of course!

I am wondering to what degree our lives as Christians are compromised and fruitless because of our being man-pleasers instead of God-pleasers, and HOW our lives should change. Most people thought JB (John the Baptist for now) was a psycho, I'm sure. He just wasn't normal, let's face it.
If he were here today, he wouldn't be at the movies, he wouldn't play video games, etc. (sorry for another shot at movies... I'm just not thinking of more creative examples), he wouldn't live in a fancy house, or wear brand name clothes.

I imagine these 2 types of western Christians. They have to be western, cause I don't know how things work elsewhere in the world, socially, and I'm trying to figure out how to live here.

Christian #1 is a fairly normal guy on the surface. Yes, he loves God very much, is very devout, knows his Bible, whatever. But he doesn't freak people out with his intensity. He is a Christian while still being accessible to the larger population, and nobody thinks he is a psycho. At face value, his life isn't that different from your general upstanding citizen. Because he is accessible, he has more chances to talk to more people about God who don't instantly disregard him.

Then there is Christian #2 who DOES freak people out. He has so given his life to God's affairs that he stands out from society at large. He doesn't take more than he needs, he is not afraid to wear nerdy clothes and live in a home that isn't trendy or big or drive a little older, again, nerdy car. (a socialist for Christian reasons :P ) He chose this humble lifestyle in order to be able to give more to the truly poor and needy. He spends more time with church than most people deem 'balanced'. He spends more time praying and reading the Bible than most people deem 'balanced'. He knows little of pop culture because he doesn't bother with it, maybe sees it as a distraction from God. People think he is an insular, out-of-touch weirdo.

Which life has more impact? Or can we know or say? Which life is more pleasing to God?

I have been struggling with this for a while, but it came to more of a head when I heard criticism of people I know who have given their lives to prayer, fasting, and community service, I don't see how that is so much more different than Mother Theresa, whom I didn't hear ANYone of ANY faith criticizing. Everyone except the hedonists, who might have called her a sucker missing out on transient physical pleasures, or said, oh, isn't she noble, living a selfless life in the service of others.
I'm not saying every intercessory missionary should be up for sainthood.
I'm merely trying to figure out where the balance is in being accessible, living IN the world and not being OF the world, 'coming out and being seperate' while still having an impact, while still being true to the calling and the life that Christ led, if we are indeed following Him as we claim.

I don't think everyone should live in the desert or have to eat locusts, or even Kraft dinner 10 nights a week. I think that thrift store finds are perfectly acceptable replacement for sackcloth.
But I wonder how much we are rendering our Christian lives powerless and fruitless by our choices.
Today I spent $90 on maternity clothes from Old Navy. More than I've spent on clothes in years. Mind you, I still managed to get 7 items: a bargain by general retail standards. And I don't feel guilty about my purchase. BUT ultimately, I know the reason for spending that was vanity and pleasing man instead of God. It doesn't do anything for God if I'm stylish. I could have covered my body for a lot less with some less than stylish selections from the thrift store down the road. But my vanity wanted to still be "cute and cool" during my period of inflation. We make choices like this all the time.

How much more humble could/should our lifestyle be in order to be more selfless and giving?
How afraid are we of being weird or even material for a mental ward? Is this valid? How concerned should we be with being off-putting? JB was not concerned with being off-putting. He was OUT there, literally! Is it an excuse and copout to try to make your life more moderate so people don't think you are a freak and can relate to you? I really, really don't know.

I've always loved II Corinthians 5:13 : If we are beside ourselves, it is for God; or if we are of sounds mind, it is for you.

Basically, I'm keeping my cool here so as not to freak you out. But really, if it were just me and God, I'm not gonna look normal, so I'm playing it down and containing it for your sake.

Back to point-

People I know that live as Intercessory Missionaries (somewhat akin to a modern-day, Protestant monk life, if it was an order that was active in community and social justice as well as prayer) are called a cult or mentally unstable now by some because of how much time they spend praying etc. and because, likely, a lot of them are rather intense individuals, not afraid to walk up to strangers and say things like, "God told me [fill in the blank] to tell you", to be more overt and visible in their Christianity.

I ranted a bit about this when I started the blog.

Can both Christian #1 and #2 be called "sold out" Christians, that have let go of their attachment to the world and are truly living FOR God?
What is the Church supposed to look like? Where is the true obedience in all that, where is godly living? Where is the church that changes the world by being devoted to and subjected to God? What does that look like? What WILL that look like?

I dunno. and it's making me nuts.
please... any feedback? Even email me if comments are too impersonal or visible, or brief a format. I would love to hear from you!

A comment on God as a Father

He fathers us, right? Yes. We are His children. Yes.

I have heard so many people over my life complain about what they perceive as this nazi god, He's so mean, all you ever hear from Him is NO no no no no. Don't do this, don't do that!
WELL, to all those people, (who are not reading this, but oh well), maybe that's all you are hearing because you are being a little disobedient brat. Guess what? If you do what He says, there is no need for Him to be drilling law at you. If you make it your business and/or perogative to do whatever the heck you want, yes, what's He left with to say, but no, don't do that. stop it, no no , stop it, no... Because He loves us, and being a good Parent, He has to inform us of what will be harmful to us and try to enforce it, to carry out consequences.

Ok, there's no hiding this is coming from a personal experience, so I'll cut to the chase. Up until the last month, Anna has been virtually effortless to parent. Seriously. I have gotten off SOOO easy. She obeyed everything at first suggestion and often didn't even have to be told stuff. I almost felt guilty when talking to other friends and hearing their struggles with their kids. She would eat whatever she was given, play with whatever you suggested, indefinitely, stop instantly if she learned something was not favourable to us. Now she is pushing, which I suppose is normal. They go in phases. But I realized, especially in the last couple days, how I didn't even feel like a parent that much to her. She was just my tiny little friend. We could hang out and there was never any tension cause she was perfectly agreeable and obedient. These last days, I am feeling like the big meany, the nazi, the nay-sayer. Because she refuses to do what she is told, and is not being compliant, that puts me in the position of being the stern enforcer. I never had to do that yet. She didn't make me. Now she is. I don't enjoy judgment and discipline, I far preferred being her chum, but I have to do it, if she is rebellious. When she is being obedient, we can just carry on happily like a couple buddies, and she might have never seen me even look stern.

And I said to myself, aaaahhhh.... we do that to God.
Maybe your own behaviour and heart attitude are determining/affecting how you see God. Your relationship could be different, better; heck, like a couple buddies.
I believe that with my whole heart.

A little post theft

So I was reading my friend's blog, and she had this great story with accompanying inspirational analogy, and it is all that is on my mind right now, so I'm sharing it. For anyone who reads Yvonne's blog, you will find this boring. So I'll see you back next week when I have something original. ;)

At the time of this old story, Yvonne had a 2 year old who could reach the low-placed light swithes in her house. She was taking a shower when the child came up and shut off the light to the bathroom, so she was stuck in blackness in the shower, unable to see anything. Nothing would get the child to turn onthe light, so she attempted to finish her shower in the darkness. To her surprise, she was able to find and use the conditioner, the loofah, adjust the heat, and finish her shower, with basically no sense of sight or any trouble, just on instinct. Initially, she was impressed. Then a spiritual correlation hit her and took the cool out of her pride.

She wondered how often we as Christians do the same thing in our lives. So do I.

To quote Yvonne, ""How dependant am I, really, on Jesus for direction?" Do I count on His light to show the way? Or do I simply fumble my way through on my own...relying on instinct and tradition?? In fact, people are able to live a "Christian" life, do "Christian" things...and yet sometimes operate almost completely on their own. (By instinct or simply living through the repetition or routine of the Christian-ese lifestyle".) And if we find ourselves operating on auto-pilot without Jesus....can we even call ourselves "Christians"? How legitimate is our claim then, to the title of "Follower of Jesus", or "Friend of God". Wow. Scary thought...

I don't want to adapt to Lightlessness..."

God, don't let me settle for the dark.

A bunny trail's moment to shine!

So Chris and I were in this big discussion about creation/evolution/big bang/state of matter (quite fascinating by the way, especially in his retelling of everything), and while I promise I was paying attention through it, this side note passed through my mind and intrigued me in that 500 words-per-second spare mental time I had in between his spoken words.

It pertains to man's struggle with his sin nature. To reference that bit from Romans 7: 15-20,
"15I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. 16And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. 17As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. 18I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature.[c] For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 19For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. 20Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. "

This corresponded for me to one wee phrase plucked from that long chew; he was talking about Genesis' version about how God made man from dirt/dust whatever. So we are made of dirt. Amen! It just kinda gave me a mental picture of Romans 7, how we live in a dirt box/tent/house, and are always wanting to be cleaner, but alas, we are dirt. Then it is only logical that we would struggle with dirtiness!

Good thing God looks on the heart and not on the outward appearance! : )